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Wen Xing. I want to reach out and grab that cloud.
Savor the taste in your hand.
White, yellow, gray.
Gentle, hot, lonely.
It's best to have a light evening breeze.
Blow my whole body apart.
It's in my blood.
Lie in the sunlit sky.
The eyes were pierced and burned.
Got piety, got purified.
Bang" "Bang" heart is beating the wheel.
Can't see clearly, can't see clearly.
Who the hell is fighting?
"Boom" "Boom" "Boom".
It hasn't changed for a long time.
Gaps appear. Fill in the clouds and put them in.
Can't fill it in. Diary of hiding
Wen Xing. The moonlight fades into the loneliness of the night.
My soul is weightless.
Can't see clearly, can't see.
It's barren, it's painful.
Rose. In a phantom day.
In a Hoshino.
In an unknown country.
I'm like the fallen, I'm like the snubbed.
Lonely Hong. Whether or not.
I say goodbye to the whole world.
It's like going through death.
Short and long.
Next alleyway.
I staggered forward.
Ask. It turned out that my soul had turned into the wind.
Eh: Be careful not to touch it.
And then in the late summer afterglow.
I went into hiding.
Read the Sleep Poet Shooting.
Face the sea and look for the light with your black eyes. Founded on November 16, 2015, the Poetry Club takes "speaking for grassroots poets" as its mission and promoting the "spirit of poetry" as its purpose, that is, the pursuit of truth, goodness and beauty of poetry, the artistic innovation of poetry, the spiritual pleasure of poetry, and the revelation of poetry to living life.