A woman's youthful years are like a set of fireworks that have been let off. In an instant, only broken colored paper and a deep hole burned black by the huge momentum are left.
What does it look like?
The prosperity is gone, leaving only a scarred and no longer pure heart.
It's empty and dark there, and there may be treasures there, but who cares?
Everyone wants to be the executioner who lights the fuse and lights up the dark night sky
After?
Without it, in the long dark night to come, there is only a dark heart, silently facing it, waiting for the moisture of the rain and dew in the morning.
After...
When the sun comes out, you are no longer needed.
This is probably youth.
Gone forever.
A few people are lucky enough to spend their whole lives, and then they are carefully collected and stored well, free from the wind, eat and sleep in the open, and achieve those few words: From now on, the years will be quiet and peaceful.
Conception: