The Poet in Me

I sometimes wonder,
Where the Poet in me has vanished,
Is it hidden within me? 
Or have I lost my willingness,
To imagine new things?
         My pen wouldn't write,
         On a piece of paper,
         My mind doesn't,
         Mould words of its own.
Is it that I have lost,
The will to write?
Or is it that writings
Will not be mine?
        Every moment I want to write,
        Something holds me back
        Every moment I want to imagine,
        I find a wall to be blocked.
But,
Giving up is not what I have learnt,
Nor is backing out.
       I will come back stronger 
       With more words to remind 
       And to remember.
For have I not just started my journey 
With no backing out now?