Sadness is an introverted spirit. The past is like the wind, blowing away all the sorrows that have fallen like snow in my life. Life is like a passerby, trudging through the realm of nothingness. Who is not a passer-by in the world of mortals? I should have left my past behind, but instead I fell into deeper confusion. She is not allowed to forget, she can only repeat the misery. This is the curse given to her by fate.
The roses were all over the ground, scattered into blood. Who was buried?
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