I am older now,
I suppose that matters, but how?
I fought for time,
against my side,
buckled and battered was I,
for something no coin could buy.
I fought against the withering wick
as the light died down and candle burned quick.
I looked for solutions in mugs and spirits
but in return, gained nothing explicit.

And I lived so long in the kingdom of my mind,
begging for answers, begging for a time
when the blackened clouds didn't dry out my night
instead something else besides these strings bound so tight.
I bargained with my brain,
for relinquishment, even just a grain;
yet, crumbs for the mice
were all that were left for my price.
All that glitters is gold,
or at least so I'm told,
yet nothing golden lasts so long
or so I've been aware--Lord I beg that it's all wrong.
Yes, I'm older now,
I suppose that matters, but how;
I'm dubious, but your guess is as good as mine,
and I suppose there will be time.