Sealed my stove mercilessly.
while
The lingering smoke tells the sorrow of poverty.
I still stubbornly smoothed my disappointment.
Write with beautiful snowflakes
When my
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:
I want to use my fingers to wave the waves leading 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.
I believe in the future.
Yes, I believe.
Children's eyes
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
The melancholy and pain of failure
It was sent.
Touching tears, deep sympathy
Or give a contemptuous smile and bitter ridicule?
I firmly believe that people are interested in our spine.
Countless explorations,
Failure and success
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