Happiness, treading on thin ice.Memories can’t go means.Youth is a beautiful sadness. Growth is a painful transformation. When all the identified past dust-laden, open only to the future.Those things have always kept in mind, we always kept in mind in the process of forgetting. I am a caterpillar, waiting to bite through their own system of their own cocoon woven,the Broken cocoon out day. Memory is of water and pour it into the palm, whether you open or grip, or will eventually drop by drop from flowing in through our fingers clean.Wind from flowery broken as fleeting time, and you smile staggered to become the most beautiful of my life embellishment to see day to see the snow, watching the season deep shadow.In this sad and beautiful in July, I am weak from my youth in Malaysia and have been playing through the woods, wearing a river, through the implicit time is when the resurrection and impermanence.You never see when I look lonely, because only you were not around me, I was the most lonely
|
