Dear ghost,
I want to skin my desire. See the anatomy of what I want. I am scared of ambition. The ambition often sounds like a fruitless struggle of the poor. But tonight, I want to spill the colour of your crime. The sins you have committed against me. It have scratched my mind all day. It has bothered my passage of time. But here and now, I want to blame it on myself. It was me who was ignorant. Being ignorant is a crime especially when it comes around.
Yours even as I fear to be.