The weeds that year grew wildly and upward, covering the young man's face.
It makes people unable to see clearly the clear tears flowing down.
The wildfire burned and burned, burning away all memories.
I call your name.
But you didn't look back or speak.
Waste materials and weeds are attacked by X gentle scum
Also known as - What should I do if my boss is too handsome?
Concept: Youth is a poem without rhyme
