To the End, Fei Ying, Tena, and the Sea of ​​Smoke

Break apart and peel off. Grasp and hold tightly. Crying and praying. Silent and ignored. Tearing the body apart. Trampling on knowledge The waves crash like the last time. They lift and fall again and again. Squirming between the plastic bags and the plastic bags, the bright red dye spreads The fishy aroma fills the nose and crazily climbs the throat Grab the fragments of the past and swing them to the ground Until the sinking of the abyss ridge. Only the last person left Arrive at the sea of decline Write that long-lasting poem