Time is always a very nice look, it seems has a lifetime of happiness and joy. Envy me, hurt my heart.
I could not leave you, you finally leave, a gust of wind blowing at the moment, carrying you away, quietly, without a trace without a trace.
I wind up the attachment to the past, it is not I touch the wound.
Now, I only get in a quiet corner, and pay homage to the dead period of the past? ! Just so I look back, they would understand the original of their own, no regrets youth. Turned and left, memories scattered on the ground, only the wind is still blowing the years the river, drifting into the distance.
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