Life is a piece of brocade, and time is a pair of scissors

Suddenly I was very tired and slept by the window. The bitterness and happiness are flourishing and leisurely, with a flick of a finger. After experiencing the vicissitudes of the secular world, I suddenly look back; The tired mood is like a lullaby, shaking the swaddling fingertips. Life should really be a song, singing classic melody. Life should be more a poem, expressing emotion with a touch of touch. Life should also be a vibrant River; It is dotted with the unique scenery of nine twists and Eighteen Bends on both sides. Life is a beautiful brocade; The fleeting time is a pair of scissors, cutting out our same makeup. Why do you suddenly want to sleep? Just because my heart is very tired. Happiness, sadness, happiness and pain are mixed together and turned into a hand, tightly grasping the swinging hope in the storm. The charming mind curled up into a flower demon, sitting quietly and murmured to practice the perfection of the light fairy. The elegant and harmonious mood seemed to be like the Buddhist dust in the hands of the Taoist priest, waving 36,000 silk threads; Releasing the cloud and smoke years like the river running. The splendid and low-key life is decorated with lines and paragraphs of your lovesickness. The turntable of memory is engraved with your shining name which will never fall down. The sweet green vines are lingering, looking forward to not meeting at the edge of time. Life Garden, who holds a pair of years scissors? Cut down the melancholy hair and sparse eyebrows. Whether it was careless or casual, the brow and the corner of the eye were involved; The scars were cut one after another. Pick up those fine oval and smooth pebbles along the riverside of the years and arrange them into shiny and warm lines of poetry. The shell hanging in your ears melodious sounds of your intoxicating nature, with the rising and falling sea water cadence. Your voice will never be hoarse or fade away. The sound of waves and red leaves came one after another, leaving the Love I wrote down with infatuation on the beach. Hold back the sound of crying, and the eyes which cast into the distance are already misty. A piece of brocade, a cut; A river, a bend; A bridge, a Oar; A sad piano, a sad word of lovesickness; A mountain, a peak, a thousand peaks, one cloud, one rain, ten thousand years. A flower brilliant spring-summer, leaf withered autumn and winter. How to endure the cutting of years in a splendid life? I have lost my weight in the bright moon, and I have lost my weight in the annual rings. As time goes by, the waterways are winding; How much wandering and tired? On the shore of the broken bridge Lake, the flying oars swing the clouds; Pursue the eyes of the Lotus Fairy. The left hand gently fondles the sad string, and the right hand lightly touches the lovesickness and resentment words. Four Seasons, clouds and rain peaks, love you for 10,000 years! Sweep away the gloomy gray dust, and the writing style of thinking suddenly turns back; Condense the distance, the Big Dipper of hope is brilliant and dazzling. The loss, regret, depression, sadness and sorrow will be driven to the corner with fear trembling. Immersed in the vast ocean mind, I stood on tiptoe and stepped on the edge of the worn years to touch the beautiful blue sky. The brilliance of self-confidence shines out of the gloomy and colorful, a graceful and elegant ending. A chapter of life brocade, years scissors cut out the fat dark paragraph; Suddenly enlightened comprehension edited into a book, the light wine, the green tea, the indifferent mood; Is the cover of my half a beautiful and comfortable life. It is easy to write and write about purple Moshi, and stay away from the hustle and bustle of chariots and horses; Live alone in a Book House, and drive the words like picking flowers and leaves; Drive my romantic, fresh and icy thoughts, and enjoy the happy and unrestrained life in. Life is a piece of brocade, beautiful and luxurious. Time is a pair of scissors, why are you afraid? Like (prose editor: Jiangnan wind) the snow in spring Spring elimination snow, multi-the yao nian, unspoken. Reading from afar, it is just above that snowfield. The snow is really beautiful, after all it is spring… Waiting Waiting is a kind of persistence, sticking to a certain belief and never giving up. 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