Tap the lock and the world is locked into a secret.
Disturbed passers-by, the green locust got up and fled to the window.
It suddenly occurred to me that this place is so close to the grassland.
The toilet wall is not cold for no reason, and the autumn colors are rising.
At that time, moths were rushing to the lights to explore the secrets of late summer.
Time failed to uproot the grass, leaving only a pair of old wings.
I was wandering in the interval of smoking addiction, and suddenly I thought of you.
A cockroach that has strayed into the sink is trying to escape.
The nightmare of being washed into the sewer is very similar to you and me.
The protest of the corner mop ended in the separation of the wooden handle and the cloth head.
Decay has been redefined, and Trichoderma umbrella on the wooden handle is so beautiful.
It turns out that apoptosis is not regret, it declares the meaning of old life.
I cleaned the bath towel repeatedly, and seven years passed quickly.
It's cold and sad, and I'm sad to hear that summer is gone.
Affection is hard, because love always makes people kneel.
The water temperature of 48 degrees washes away fine dust and gets rid of bad temper.
Nowadays, people are far apart, and the sun and the moon are just a proposal of love.
I am still alive, but my heart has died for you.
The love of my life
Exile the free wind outside the window with the beautiful autumn.
Xiao killed Qiu, and Qiu will make a comeback.
Heaven and earth have never changed, but the love of my life cannot be played back.
Now maple leaves are full of season and tourists are everywhere.
The kite is tender, the rope is not broken, and the child runs over.
If you are outside the clouds, you can see the dust that I rushed to you.
Butterflies wander in autumn, waiting for a love.
Fate turns, brewing a sentimental future.
The end of fate is a grave. Who says a long life will not fail?
The woodcutter waved his sawtooth to see the posture of Acer truncatum landing.
When love is cut, the pain of the last lap is recorded.
Abandoned old roots, or new love or long buried branches.
Oranges, grapes and rice all have harvests, and sickles are no exception.
The seeds will bloom again in a spring and continue the beautiful present.
Full of a person's gluttonous feast, watching the wax torch turn to ash, and roared off.
I am not comprehensive enough in the love game, which violates life and death.
Waiting is like an evil spirit that breaks away from the seal, and no one can control the helplessness.
Without you, teach me how to live happily and cross an abstract future.