Lost

It seems to be a little rotten, and it seems to begin to decay, what a vicissitudes of life. Counting the fleeting years at your fingertips, a reincarnation has been unknowingly for more than twenty years. Ask yourself what you have done or gained these years. This is a mystery that people can never find themselves. Such a long life, gradually sliding from March to June, can’t help sighing the rush of time. In addition to being uneasy or uneasy in the bottom of your heart, sometimes you will laugh at yourself. What on earth are you entangled with, what are you uneasy about, and you are wandering in your heart. It is like a blooming tea, with a shallow edge in the heart, longing for the opening of the heart. Touch your heart on your hand, and keep your eyes fixed to wait and see, as if you have passed away. Pick up a summer flower, convert to the world of mortals, and see flowers in the fog like dreams. Dial the happy shell, only empty dust. Remove those lonely scenes, forget those meaningful thoughts and sorrows, greet the unchangeable emptiness, and be willing to sink into its cape. It sounds so helpless that you can’t change all of these. It’s unsightly, but you hide in a quiet place and cry with words. The boundless silk rain is as thin as sorrow, which is linked in a thread, melancholy and moaning without illness. Nature is full of vigor and vitality. The rain in June was like dew, falling on my face, slowly immersed in my skin, light and bright. Sometimes there are ripples, just like feelings in my heart. In this way, involving yourself into the sorrow of the world, even if it is a road of no return.

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