I used my youth to rush into a city, wanting to live a life that was envied, and used my unknown injuries to exchange for some face in the eyes of my relatives and friends. I was unable to earn the material things I wanted, so I was forced to throw away my poems in the distance. I wanted to live a stable life in a city, but my ideals eventually lost to reality. I tried my best to support myself, but I couldn't support a family. It's just because I was not born into a wealthy family. Should I no longer believe that hard work will be rewarded? Maybe fate is a joke.
I worked hard to earn a living, but I couldn't earn a home. Maybe people from other places were destined to have a hard time staying. I gambled on my years and my dreams, but I only got half a lifetime of fatigue————
