I use blood and tears to pay homage to my purity; I use colors to pay homage to my love.
If I hadn't fallen in love with you when I was young, wouldn't I have so much helplessness?
If I hadn't met you when I was in despair, wouldn't there be so much hope?
If it wasn't injury or misunderstanding, wouldn't I have lost you?
The love of the past was like a pansy, blazing and rich. The protection of planting it indoors is ultimately a kind of destruction. It cannot survive without sunlight, just like your love and mine...
Ended without illness.
Conception: