The dilapidated and withered roses are not worthy of the scorching sun hanging high in the sky
I am the sacrificial rose
He is also a madman who arranged the plan
The end of chess
I wither into poetry in your arms
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ps:
This book was suddenly conceived in class, and I just wanted to write down this story that belongs to them. I will try my best to write this prologue about them.
Maybe this story may seem a bit childish to everyone, but I am just in the second grade of junior high school and my writing skills are limited. I will continue to improve and improve. The chapters finally presented to you were revised many times after listening to many opinions.
If you think there is any illogical logic, please point it out and I will continue to improve it. The story line is fictitious and private. I apologize for everything. Please forgive me. Thank you for your like [Bow jpg.]
Intention: Study hard and make progress every day