All the arrangements to subvert fate
Lonely music
Beat the notes hard.
Those notes bloom in another time and space.
Symmetrize the past with the future.
Do not hesitate to repeat the same mark.
Because there are memories.
That's why I'm sad
If you lose your memory,
So before sadness really comes
Is the happiest time.
Forgetting may be just a moment of blooming.
The future may be just a few symmetries of the past.
I forgot to want to blossom.
At least that smile was real at the beginning of symmetry.
Life is just a contest between yourself and yourself.
The petals withered in autumn have never found suitable soil, and today they are quietly forgotten. Dead branches will grow new branches, and the snow-white walls will become mottled and have the taste of vicissitudes under the erosion of continuous rain. Just like the story that happened one day, you can still see it clearly when you peel it off. The splendor of fireworks can't escape the devouring of the lonely night sky. The flowers in the mirror and the moon in the water turn into an ethereal rainbow, occasionally passing through the heart, reflecting an emptiness.
Midnight, lonely debut. Under the starlight lamp, I tried to record the truest feelings in the roughest words. The truth was replaced by camouflage, and the crying diary was dying before it was broken, and finally it went to extinction.
Time flies, leaving a vague mark. People are floating around in front of us, and the lonely moon is always hanging in the air. Who will notice that there is a thin layer of moss on the steps I have sat on, who can feel the little sadness overflowing from the old songs I loved, and who is constantly examining the confusion I have passed? ...
The turning distance is already Qian Shan, and we live far apart.
Weeping willows are as light and smooth as childhood swings. Our youth swaying in the wind is the solemnity after mourning. The scorching sunshine is the same as the summer of that year, and the solidified air also indicates the sadness before leaving. We are used to joys and sorrows, ups and downs, and learned to replace all words with silence; In round after round of twists and turns, numbness became the strongest weapon.
Smelling the flowers, looking for suitable soil in the lush forest, hiding their innocent smiles in the passing scenery. Along the way, from one summer to another, nothing seems to have changed, but every sunset will be inexplicably sad, it is the last glory of the day, and people, in a hurry, are rushing to their own sunset.
A contest between yourself and yourself, how to come and how to go. There is no reason for the change of seasons.
Time, proudly passing through my fingers, does not leave. ...
Be infected by the grandeur and shock of Gothic music. ...
confused ...
I often wonder what kind of brilliance, brilliance, or lifelessness will appear when the sun shines on my dreams. I don't want to pay attention to what traces time has left on me and why it is so fast! Don't think about that heavy dream. ...
Sometimes, I really like it. I like it very much. A person quietly in a daze in a remote corner, looking at the blue sky, leisurely floating clouds, catching the slightest sunshine, misty thoughts-wow! I like this feeling! Although sometimes he is an idiot ...
In fact, every time I am in a daze, I always ask myself what is ignorance and what is the brilliance of the sun shining on my dreams. Every time I was in a daze for a long time, I was in a daze, and then I ended up fruitless and finally went away; The teacher said, I know that the answer has long been deliberately thrown away by me, far away … far away …, and my heart has long been lost in emptiness, leaving my dreams aside at will!
When the light is turned on, there is no sunshine, and the poor brightness has disappeared into deep seclusion. What does that light-tragic light symbolize? ! Do you scream silently, or smile like a broken kite at a dream that you want to catch but can't catch?
Life is a chain, it is locked too much. ...
More often, I am thinking, exposing my dream to the sun and finding it locked by life. It's hard to untie, but it's hard to give up! Looking back mercilessly, I found that there was only a long black hole behind me, and I didn't care about myself at all …
What color is the sunlight in the dream? Just like in the afternoon, is the same sunshine shining on the edge of porcelain pure and bright or not? ...
Standing at the crossroads of life, looking at all seasons, the rings of life are clear and fuzzy. The hour hand of years points to the autumn of life. Taking stock of life's inventory, I vaguely feel that the surplus grain in this large-volume warehouse is so lonely, and the sword of years is still devouring life as always. At this time, I really realized the insignificance and helplessness of understanding.
Seeds that germinate in spring. The arrogance in winter is still rampant, and the sunshine in spring is like a flock of sheep that have not returned for a long time, and I don't know where to wander. This seed cries in the dark and cold early spring night. Longing for spring breeze and sunshine.
The fields in spring are sprouting a touch of new green, and tender seedlings are whispering side by side. In the far corner of the field, a very humble seed was abandoned in the spring season. He became yellow and shriveled, and became very strong.
Missed the flowering period. A weak body can't help the spring rain, just like a pregnant woman who has recovered from a serious illness can't help but make up for it. Standing on the shoulders of spring, I can see colorful eyes. I can't help but burst into tears at the thought that my thin trunk can't bear the budding buds.
Green grass is flourishing. All life is full of vitality. I always chase the season outside the season. I can only live so confused, lonely and wronged.
What is life like? I can't explain it with my bad luck for more than forty years. I can only think silently. That is the bitter fruit of seasonal branches, that is the irregular dislocation trace between the texture of annual rings, that is the eternal pain overflowing from crooked footprints, that is a book that no one can understand, but has to read on. I can only live helplessly like this.
It's fall here. Maturity and harvest are always far away from me. I am like a boatman lost in the vast sea, and I can only let the sail of life drift by the reins. Maybe one day the rough waves will take my life and engulf my boat. However, I have no regrets. This is the true face of life.