Modern Poetry on Sunday

Blowed by a typhoon on the weekend

The storm was ruthless

Leaving a mess

The temperature was suitable

Sitting alone I cultivate my character in the courtyard

I never tire of it

Rotten leaves

Shouldn’t be ravaged by the mud

What right do you have to sigh

p>

I have never shouted

I am tired of hesitation

It is an excuse to live alone

Public opinion has too much nonsense

Black and white Regardless

Play as you wish

Symbol of tackiness

Never get rid of bad taste

Only worthy of being thrown into the recycling bin

< p> Body shaking and unstable

About to fall

Already smelling danger

Lame trick

Haven’t written the script yet< /p>

It’s already doomed to a sad ending

Tighten your nerves

Sharp and ready to explode

As if you want to penetrate the blank state

< p> The person in the mirror is in a daze

Guarding the last blind lie

Hiding and joy

It doesn’t matter whether it is perfect or not

Only cares about the present< /p>

Sober and bright two lines

Low-level things cannot be understood

Pretentious

Will evaporate in self-righteousness