Infantile convulsion time, a while. The silence of the night, memory is like a page but the title page, lingering in the heart, fan Jiang inverted Haiti rehearsal once because of love and sad story. Memory seems to be a thin smoke, floating in the mind, not a little inclination to leave, for a long time not to.
Years such as day water, wake up in vain. In the vast sky, leaving only the lonely figure. With non - who also do not understand, crazy and stay only I alone bell. Regret deeply buried, shouldering the heavy memories, life alone alone alone.
The vast earth, where you belong. I think of you that side, you alone, heart burst of grief. How many story much mood, with the day, deep in the memory deep place, into silence.
Is the cloud, fog, or a dream? Smoke past, looking back, the dream is not a dream, the past is gone with the wind.
All the dream life, have 用梦 attitude towards life, but never make up for the regret got soul.
Pain days away from me, the pain of the heart is difficult to cure. In tears after reading the mixed with your memory, felt very real horizon distance.
I have a heavy pay, but no results. Now, I am calm water. With a sad, looking back, looking back, only their own.
The rain stretches of the season, the same day, as the rain, not the same heart, is unable to replicate the original you.
Sometimes the heart always have a touch of sad, because you never know when you will leave the campus, have a deep love for you and I.
You are my forever to be far away, I am you have forgotten the past.
The silence of the season, the language lost its color: the lonely years waiting for the forgotten oath.
In all the astounding story ended, you still you, I or me. In you all my own beautiful bright in the sky is still blue, belong to my own position is only the lonely and sad.
I know that you will bring you beautiful another story, but I just your youth diary an understatement of the accident. I know I will learn to habit, learn to let go, and then tell you, I admit that I just in your life a chance. But, I can be so indifferent? Still waiting in the bent on pain, in the rain for your memory?
The messy, flowers fall, in the end of time, who will be worried sent to the moon in the moon, who struggled to hold on to the past, unrepentant persistence?
Time is like the convulsion of the yellow leaves, the treetop, lightly dancing will recall carved into its autumn season, swaying in the shadows.
Through the gray misty day, only to find the trajectory of youth has been unable to identify all the geese had no trace.
Were just seasons still leisurely, since you left, the sky is full is the rainy season, the heart is doomed not to have the other side of wandering, I let the tear incisively and vividly in no wind and rain, waiting in the rainy season in grief.
Today also played a drizzle lightly, when I walk in the rain that love pain interlaced mood again, let the rain and tears wet cheeks, low v. my desire pendulum cannot, my memory on the painted screen and add a figment of long helpless and sad!
