Some people spend their youth as poetry, and some people spend their time as poetry. However, no matter what kind of poetry, it will become a song.
The days of youth have become a thing of the past, and meeting each other is still in a dream.
Is it really love that walks by with bowed head?
Or is it just a light rain that leaves no trace?
Or is it the loneliness of youth?
A short article written two years ago.
Conception: