A love, a tear, a lingering dream.
Half life is like a song, but when the memory turns to dust, where can I find those past events in twos and threes?
After walking through the bustling world, youth has turned into silver hair in an instant
But I remember someone who was murmuring about it in his sleep at midnight.
This is the first time someone has published an article. His writing skills are not good, and he does not dare to be so shameless as to consider himself noble.
But I beg you readers to be merciful, and if you have any questions, please feel free to enlighten me.
Every author who picks up his pen and dares to publish his graffiti to the world is a warrior.
At the time of posting, everyone was prepared to receive all kinds of scorn.
But what flows from the tip of everyone's pen is a gurgling stream,
Please do not cut off its path to the ocean when it first begins to surge.
M(_ _)m