Before dawn, looking out the window. Perplexed, don’t know what to do? Listening to music, helpless. Thinking about life , being annoyed by some people. In melancholy, in hesitation. In loneliness, waiting.
Some love does not know when it will come, and some people will not meet again after they leave. Some regrets can only be left to the years, and some regrets are only known to me. Some wasted time only knew by oneself, and some wasted time only knew by oneself. There are some things no one can say, and some silence will be silent for a long time.
The human heart is unpredictable, and the human heart is sinister. I don’t know who is trustworthy, I don’t know how to go forward? The human heart is the most difficult to touch, and the most varied. What can we do if we are hurt by some people? How about being suppressed by some people? There is too much helplessness, too many flowers blooming.
Treating others with a sincere heart is nothing but a ridiculous exchange. Learned hypocrisy and indifference, and felt so indifferent in the world. Learned to be indifferent, and feel the cold wind gusts. After learning to laugh, I felt scarred again. Learned to accept life , and felt the lack of color.
The flowers bloom and fall, this man takes the tea to cool. This world is cold and warm, it is unbearable to look back. This painful yesterday and today, this tired past and present. Every day of this prudent words and deeds, every day of constant thinking. Every day of this constant suffering, every day of this embarrassment.
The flower was defeated and reopened, and the man went and came again. The trivial things under the street lamp, the dazed after wandering. The person who shouldn’t be missed, the young and ignorant past. The sigh in the middle of the night, the weeping night. The suffering that is not understood, the suffering that is abused by others. The bitterness of strong smile, the bitterness of drifting away.
The flower was defeated and opened again, and the wind was far away and came again. The ignorant and throbbing past, the unwillingness that disappeared. The story without an end , the past that was not mentioned. Looking back at that messy, tearful wine. The unhealed pain, the quarreling noise. That distressed and depressed heart, that flower is defeated and blooms again.