I like to sit in the corner of the room at midnight and write some gloomy words, and then watch these trembling words clinging to each other for warmth. Because of the meaningless and powerless embrace of ice and snow, I have increasingly cold sentences. You can look at the little warmth left in the embers of the sun with a smile, becoming the fertilizer for the flowers of the netherworld that you see.
The fate of this life after another may be mine, or it may be yours...
If... You have also experienced such misery and despair, then please follow me into this dark night flower country where no one is allowed to enter...