Wishes come true just not mine,
Staring at the creamy ceiling, I dine,
To my victorious joy of the tiny hope,
I pray, smiling at the silhouette,
Who held a paper rose.

Light, feathering touches of the phantom,
Every last word are centered into my soul,
Whispers come dangerously alive,
In the middle of the lonely night.
It carries my secrets that I...