Accompany me to the last

In the sad autumn, I danced with the wind in the air with my reluctant leaves. I couldn’t tell the wonderful dance posture, and I felt a little depressed for several days. The wind can’t understand Ye’s sadness, just like the darkness of night and day. Hopelessly obsessed with this affectionate season, which belongs to me. Still the woman who was so beautiful and sad in those years, she only occasionally watched the flying track of the plane in the sky, imagining whether she could reach the other side of her dream by walking along it all the time. One second, two seconds, after three seconds, the white track will be fragmented, just like my dream. I can’t stand the polishing of time. The Sky is a child who likes nostalgia. She always keeps the persistence of rain, but the rainbow after the rain never knows who gave the whole sky. I can’t remember the last time when I smiled from the bottom of my heart. I felt that after a long time, I couldn’t even see myself like this. Recently, I was so busy that at midnight, I even doubted what I was doing to ruin myself. Maybe I am just looking for all kinds of excuses to prevaricate the mire in my mind, thinking that in this way, I can be myself, forget the wounds that can not be wiped out, when the night is still, when the ink color spreads out in loneliness, my mind grows crazily. After two or ten years, how many people who stay around you, listen to your joys and sorrows, and I am used to being alone, shuttling through the crowd every day, pouring in, and then burying. Everyone is working hard to live. I dare not step into your world. I don’t want to be an intruder. Seeing her passing by me holding her hand, the third party of friendship, when did I become me. The injured in love are used to licking the wound by themselves, with seawater on one side and flames on the other side, resisting the weakness lurking in their hearts feebly. Perhaps, leaving is another choice, which will only bring you harm. It is not worth doing anything. Run away from afar and do what you want. Passers-by are still showing off their happiness to me recklessly. Why should I hide in the bed and cry alone, remembering those so-called exclusive memories that you have abandoned in the dust? Perhaps, just like someone said, if you want to erase all unhappy things, the deepest thing in your memory is only the most real beauty. The leaving of leaves is the pursuit of the wind or the unreserved stay of trees. Passerby armour is still showing off their happiness unscrupulously under the sunshine, while I am still waiting for you to accompany me to see through all the scenery, see the long. The wind determines the direction of Dandelion. I will never let anyone decide my sadness. Dandelion’s purple sadness is looking for desperate love. One day, I will turn you into a butterfly, the fallen leaves are not good even for you

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