This cursor is staring at me
But it doesn't understand it's flocking to me
Waiting for me to come up with gold
But before I do, I have to get old
I'm too young to have any wisdom
And I'm not sure how to get some
Does age define a mature mind?
Or is the way you live your life?

Writer's block ticks like clocks
While tired eyes wish it'd stop
Finding hope in midnight thoughts
That get lost in parking lots
Begin with a cliché and pray
That it won't just be cast away
Print your heart and make it hurt
For rolling eyes are so much worse