After eight hundred years of walking through the mountains,
Flying across the stars for eight hundred years,
It's fate
God has mercy?
Let me
Come to you.
The ancients said
If the sky has feelings, the sky will also grow old.
The moon is always round without hatred.
What about you?
Will you be moved by me?
Join hands,
How about we all grow old together?
It was written when I was in high school in 2000. It's a novice among novices, and it's very white. If you don't like it, enter with caution.
Conception: