You are flowers filled with sadness in your heart, they bloom secretly while you are sleeping.
I have imagined you countless times. Is it like the dim light of the street lamp pouring out one halo after another in the dark night? You gradually pass through but you can never see where the end of the road leads to? Are the leaves of the sycamore trees splaying in the bleak autumn wind, carving mottled shadows in your brown pupils? Will you still quietly walk over the corpses on the ground? I seem to see your back, the vague thinness of your shoulders, like a huge whirlpool, sucking in all the darkness of the world.
The eyes of those indifferent children are like a blue sea, where are the reflections of all the wind and grass in the world.
Intention: Youth Enlightenment