Dear ghost,
I have been lost for a while.
It has been a while since I knew where the north star is.
Haven't flown close to the sky. Haven't dipped in the ocean. I haven't done enough yet I dare to sigh.
Those nights when I return alone in the comfort of my home, I hum to a song so familiar to me. I am certain that the stranger must have heard me. But they seem kinder to me than my acquaintance.
I thought the only power I had were this letters that drip with my emotions. They were the only source of my pride. But even so, they had the power to say that I never held it.
It is theirs. It is theirs. My writing has been just an indulgence. Not a talent it seems. Every dust in the air acknowledge my incompetence.
Yours.