Born in this chaotic world, the sky I see is gray and filled with the smell of death. Some people fall and never get up again, and some people cry but are unable to change. I don't want this, I don't want to be trapped in this cage and become a gift, I don't want to be a victim under the hoof of a horse, I don't want the person who gives me warmth to die. So what can I do?
Intention: Flapping its wings like a butterfly will always lead to change