Rough Draft (Duh)

This is a rough first poem after years without writing

Rough hands, rough face,
rough draft for words I can replace.
You think it's easy to muster up a rhyme?
Probably, if given enough time.
But that's all this will ever be,
a rough draft for only I to see.
I watch as I see my talent degrade,
makes me wonder if I ever had it in the first place.
It just seems natural to let these words flow,
almost as if I'm finally letting something go.
As to what that is, I fear I'll never know,
but with each word, I feel my heart grow.
Maybe it was trapped, or most likely dead,
I'll never really know what's going on in my head.
But to sum this up before I weep,
this is a rough draft for only I to keep.