Just Like We Passed Away

I have no feelings about my life Achieve nothing, be good for nothing, have nothing It seems like all the negative words can describe me So today, at the age of 37, I am still trapped in a muddled life. But the fragmented memories flashing through my mind tell me: my story should not be written like this I should write it myself to outline the scenes that are gradually blurring in my memory. In addition to this And her in my memory My story is not all mud On the contrary Just like we passed away It was also in the vortex of memory Exuding bright starlight