Those who have passed away and those memories of the past are like a beautiful poppy growing in the heart, spreading to my heart. I know that it will be poisoned, but I can't let go of the breathtaking beauty. He would always be touched by her watery warmth when he dreamed back at midnight, disturbed by her cold determination, and hurt by her stubborn aloofness. His heart would be unable to control himself at that moment, and the pain would make his eyes dry, but he could not shed a single tear.
Don't always stay in one time and miss another time.
