Dear ghost,
Tell me, what kind of dream are you planning of? It should involve money, bond, mask and sweats. You can veil it in every shade you want to but when the road ends, you have lost your way. I made me. I am proud and ashamed. I can't stop rowing my boat towards the past. I have swept all that I hoped for. The blame is all mine. But blame me not. Only I can blame myself. You who toasted with me has no say in this drama of mine.
Yours