What am i?

Dull eyes staring at the white screen,
Bags under the sockets from the lack of sleep,
Writing poems 'till they seem so bleak..
Letting the void seep in so deep,

Typing to the bones,
Knowing nothing is right you let out dull groans..
Where your mind is,
No one knows.

A writers block pounds,
Little tiny thoughts surrounds,
Then falls fast and hits the ground,
As if your brain drowns..

Feeling somber,
Trying to grasp more thoughts to ponder,
Zombie is you, you're not you any longer,
Were a poet now a goner.

Days get emulsified,
Seems as if your soul has lied..
You were never a poet..
But that thought leaves you dissatisfied.