Ganghedu
Need galaxies
Cowherd and Weaver Maid are separated.
But it doesn't seem to work.
Because the stars are still shining
Magpies fly around.
In the age of marriage
Cycas can blossom.
Dead vines will sprout.
I am in charge of my own affairs.
I know. I like it.
In the age of divorce
Breaking up doesn't need a reason.
A feeling floats by.
Or a shopping ticket.
I got rid of myself.
In the age of self
Ye Er is not about flowers.
Flowers are used to loneliness.
Even if they come from the same root.
* * * perches on a branch.
In the age of materialization
We dance with the tide of interests.
Willing or unwilling
This will not change.
Whether in the past or in the future.
But sometimes I write poems.
Think about the past.
Hometown fugue
How much clarity has faded.
How bleak it is is still very clear.
How many modern poems were there in the past? ......
More or less silly.
Stupid and ridiculous, stupid and pitiful, so stupid that even tears become' worthless'.
More or less silly.
Stupid sad, stupid shameful, stupid even feel that they are not worthy of themselves.
More or less silly.
Stupid redundancy, stupid hatred. Too stupid, there will be no love.
More or less flat.
Stupid, clumsy. Too stupid to tell good from bad.
at present ......
More or less tired.
Tired of helplessness, tired of hesitation. I feel so tired that even venting is a luxury.
More or less boring.
Bored and lonely, bored and lonely. I lost my dull future.
More or less. A little hurt.
Sad and bruised. Even the dawn that hurts life is forgotten.
More or less, a little old.
Old abandonment and old depravity. An ancient tomorrow in which even dreams are abandoned.
Past and present.
More or less. I've grown up a little.
More or less. I know a little.
More or less. I cherish it a little.
More or less. I know a little.
More or less. My lost youth gave me good memories.
More or less. The love I lost gave me good memories.
More or less. The family I abandoned gave me the greatest comfort.
More or less. My long-lost friendship. Gave me an encouraging compliment.
How much I have left, how much I have gained and how much I have lost. It seems that these are more or less unimportant. Maybe the dictionary of life will only explain its meaning with words you understand. My dictionary has just turned to the first chapter.
How many modern poems are there?
How much love, the beginning is vigorous and the end is heartbreaking!
How many feelings, when together, lofty sentiments and ambitions, when apart, become strangers.
How much hate, don't give up for a long time, remember a lifetime.
How many tears, wet pillows at night, red eyes all day.
Not much, because I don't care much.
Quite a few, because of prison.
After all, we all expect too much.
After all, I lost my good.
Maybe not.
How many are really beautiful?
How straight can we look at each other?
Sometimes, I can't even understand what I say, think and do. ...
Sometimes, I can't understand what I say, think and do ... but I still have a firm belief in my heart, give myself courage and stick to it.