Mourning.
This kind of love is like a flower blooming on a cliff. The more beautiful it is, the more dangerous it is.
This kind of love is destined to reincarnate in the abyss of pain. The more you struggle, the deeper you sink.
This kind of love is like a poppy, with beautiful flowers that make people fall in love with it, but it tortures them silently and embarrassingly.
A song of mourning for the lover who is drunk on the cliff.