A positive poem, a lost year, a flowing memory,
Bound into rich and precious wealth,
Decorate my calendar.
Once upon a time, I suddenly became confused and confused.
I have nothing left,
I have nothing.
Seeing the rising sun in Ran Ran,
There was a glimmer of hope in my heart,
Habit or in our nature?
The light of the dream stung my heart,
I was thinking,
I only have youth and struggle.
Seeing the flying birds, my thoughts danced with them.
Still feel sad in retrospect?
The wind gnaws at the heart, and the braid of memory is also very long.
I have nothing but youth and struggle.
Seeing the rainbow after the rain, there is nowhere to hide the wounds in my heart.
Nostalgia or nostalgia?
The heart becomes painful and people begin to be silent.
Oh, I have nothing,
Except youth and struggle.
How can the charming girl in the greenhouse know that human feelings are warm and cold?
Falling into a strange land full of charm and desire,
This is called youth, and it is difficult to persist.
Falling in the growing emptiness and loneliness.
Irony, snobbery, injury, ugliness? Shocking,
Yesterday's arrogance brought today's femininity.
I can only hide in an empty corner, shivering secretly.
In the dark, the tense figure, the silent and sad person,
I really want to shout.
Why?
The throat is tense and depressed,
I always can't shout out my strongest appeal.
It turns out that I have nothing, nothing,
Only youth and struggle,
Life can't be wasted, how can time be wasted?
Poetry 2: If I were a snowflake,
Handsome in midair,
I have to know my direction, okay?
Fly, fly, fly?
This land has my direction.
Don't go to that cold valley,
Don't go to the desolate foothills,
Disappointed not to go to the deserted street?
Fly, fly, fly?
Look, I have my direction!
Dancing in the air,
Identify quiet homes,
Waiting for her to visit in the garden?
Fly, fly, fly?
Ah, she smells like cinnabar plum!
I was naked at that time,
Yingying touched her skirt,
Close to her tender heart?
Dissolve, dissolve, dissolve?
Melt in her gentle heart
Flowers bloom and fall, and eventually turn into spring mud, but it also moistens the soil.
Candles give birth to candles, which eventually turn to ashes, but they are also bright.
Faced with yesterday's troubles, we must forget them.
Looking forward to the sunrise tomorrow.
Remember what others have done for you, son.
Hopefully
Spread your wings and fly under your blue sky!
A positive poem: When the cobwebs mercilessly sealed my stove.
When the smoke of ashes sighs the sorrow of poverty
I still stubbornly smooth away the ashes of disappointment.
Write with beautiful snowflakes: believe in the future.
When my purple grapes turn into dew in late autumn
When my flowers snuggle up to other people's feelings
I still stubbornly use frosted vines.
Write on the desolate land: believe in the future.
I want to use my fingers to stir the waves that rush to the horizon.
I want to hold the sun in my hand.
The warm and beautiful pen flickers with the dawn.
Write with a child's pen: believe in the future.
I believe in the future.
Yes, I believe that people's eyes in the future
She brushed away the eyelashes of history.
She has a student who can read through the years.
No matter what people think of our rotting bodies.
Those lost blues, the pain of failure.
It was tears of emotion and deep sympathy.
Or give a contemptuous smile and bitter ridicule?
I firmly believe that people are interested in our spine.
Countless explorations, lost ways, failures and successes.
I will definitely give a warm, objective and fair evaluation.
Yes, I am anxiously waiting for their comments.
Friends, believe in the future.
Believe in indomitable efforts
Young people who believe in overcoming death.
Believe in the future and love life.