Time has told me,
To wait is a crime;
maybe
Time just stands still,
And we will feel tired,
Just
It's us beside time
It flew by so fast.
It's still raining outside.
Countless winds,
With the violence against flowers and plants,
interpreting one's own youth;
This is a collection of essays that records my mentality when I was growing up. It integrates prose, poetry, and short stories. I am willing to support it forever...