This topic was written down as early as two days ago, but if the document is empty, there will be no words to fill in. Is there nothing to say? Is it confused? I don't think so. I want to say it, but I can't understand it, because I am as empty as this sudden weather. It's not that my thoughts can't be sorted out, but I suddenly feel that all languages are redundant. However, I have to say!
Spring is a season of leisure. Idle troubles, if there is, add some charm, it doesn't matter if there is no. The problem is, I can't find this carefree sorrow, and I can't find any affectation if I want to moan.
In spring, flowers bloom. It's confusing and confusing. Originally peaceful land, suddenly scrambling to emerge green leaves, new branches and flowers, how can it not make people fidget? As the saying goes, out of sight, out of mind, it's just that the eyebrows are full of spring scenery, and the eyes are full of colors.
Spring is hope. But so capricious and unpredictable. Either the sun shines high or the wind wrinkles a pool of water; Either it's humid and sultry, or I listen to the north wind whistling as usual. What is even more puzzling is that one moment is a cold winter, the other is a warm southern spring, and even summer. ...
That's all. After all, the environment is born of the heart. If the heart is cold, it will be cold, and there will be no worries. Ha ha! If there is a poem in the heart, it will naturally be exported as an article. So, don't complain about anything, that is, that is, okay, I admit, that is, my mood is a little confused and my thoughts are a little far away.
I originally wanted to write an article on "Spring Blossoms". I took a picture of azaleas that day and I liked it very much. I always feel that I should match something. Originally, I wanted to write "If I don't die, I will never part" and make up a story that can neither touch others nor touch myself. Even I wanted to write "Time flies", but I lost all motivation.
Then I got bored and had nothing to do, so I went through my words, and then I deeply wondered when I had written so many articles. Why are these words so strange? I feel like I'm reading something strange written by a stranger. It's so fresh. It turns out that fried cold rice can also be fried like raw food. I don't know if it's because I wrote in a fog some time ago or because I've been in a fog for some time, so I'm confused.
Alas!
Who cares? Sleepy or lazy, I can't write a word!
Whatever. No motivation, no interest, no story!
Who cares, people come and go, flowers bloom at ebb and flow, and the sun rises!
I don't care if the purple world is clean or not, the world is exhausted!
Think I'm nothing, I'm worthless, I won't exchange words for money, I won't tie a chicken!
In this flowery and beautiful spring space, it is dispensable!
Be a small fish with only leisure and trouble, that's all!
Throw a pen and seal the piano. .....