How I wish, somehow, someone writes a poem while thinking of me
How I wish that the next song to play is mine to keep
Selfish
All pretty things happen in fairy tales
And today’s not that time to write myself one
Pity
Yeah, quite pathetic at first
But helpful, refreshing at some intervals
Still, how I wish the next poem’s for me,
about me,
or even just
a memory of me
At least there’s a part of assurance that someone
sees (saw) me
Selfish
I know yet I need this dose of fantasy even just for a moment
Pity
It’s okay…
I’m fine.
I also pity myself sometimes.
Yakapin 
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