I wish to be happy.
I wish my dreams would come true.
I wish to find true love.
I wish to have many friends.
I wish I had learned sooner
that wishes don’t always come true.
But I kept wishing anyway.
Throwing hopes into the sky
like stars would catch them.
Whispering to the night
as if silence had the power to answer.
I believed in the magic of wanting,
in the beauty of believing,
until the silence grew louder,
and the waiting grew heavier,
and the world reminded me —
not all dreams come with open doors.
Sometimes love never arrives.
Sometimes friends walk away.
Sometimes joy is something
you chase through fog
and only catch in fragments.
And yet…
there’s something quietly brave
about still wanting more,
about lighting candles
even when you’ve seen them blow out.
So I still wish.
Not because I expect everything,
but because inside me
a small part still hopes
that something,
somewhere,
might come true.
YOU ARE READING
illusions
Poetry"This is where I write down my thoughts and ideas about various topics that pique people's curiosity."
