A poem jam

A sudden thought bubble appears in my head:
"What am I doing now?" A question emerges, yet it soon fades.

Staying blank for a few moments, the bubble expands and extends;
Now it got more space. Still no words, though.

I aspire to see highways of ideas for the cars of thought 
Running freely without traffic, yet things not always go terrific.

While novel, attractive concepts are readily made in others' brains
Mine could barely make one, with pains

There's no such thing that should be called "easy"
And no work with 100% pleasing

Then, the bubble is popped by
The needle of regrets, and I'm feeling sad, sorrowful, and miserable