Cold season, light white cold. Repeated daily, inescapable years slipped past the fingertips. Go away quietly.
A faint look in the mirror of his somewhat indifferent face.
That's what it's like to grow up.
If this is to grow up.
To learn to live by myself, many friends have told me.
But unfortunately
As always.
Or the habit of keeping silent, quietly watching, but whose step has walked in front of him. Then turn around and leave.
Let go of the hand, let fly the heart. Regrettable, sad unbridled spread.
The dark sky, reflection of my untouchable loneliness.
Time always changes things.
Some stories, perhaps, do not have an ending. What we think is just our hope.
I am as cold and stubborn as ever.
In the future, we need to fight for it.
The past, will miss, but never return.
It's time to leave. I let myself fall.
A person's first life is a blank sheet of paper.
But the moment of birth has been predicted.
Blindly walk on the wrong side of the wrong.
Looking back at the traces of the derangement could not be erased.
The head does not go back further and further.
Those are like shadows that are intertwined with you.
It's all about cutting and getting messy.
Looking away, I think of you and me.
Look at the sky and remember us.
The story, how to write, the ending ability not lonely?
Dialogue, how to say, facial expression ability not sad 33?
He who knows, needs no explanation, and understands.
The person that does not understand, how explanation, also won't understand?
Turn round and walk with strangers.
