Library

Raindrops Falling from the eaves to the ground like a shooting star Dragging its tail and flying across the blue sky That blank photo As the high wall collapses appeared before my eyes again your blurry smile sharp pen tip Cut whose fingertips grab a handful of pills But too sweet to swallow wrong timeline cruel old events lips close to ear One last sentence - Goodbye

Form serves content, rhythm follows history. In the era of popular AI-assisted writing, we must persist in independent conception and independent writing, and retain the most original, rough and sincere vitality.