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prose and poetry

Once sweet time.

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Once sweet time.

Time flows, slide the fleeting and ink. When the mind slowly up the days of sailing, the dust laden past, drifting with the years, quietly blooming in my heart and eyes. Like the movie, a curtain clearly now when the floating eye. My heart, has integrated inkstone years, leaving only a wisp of fragrance, invasion of the yellow paper, do not feel the dream. As the years generally, unable to be a layer stripping all the emotion, finally, only a dead city. The other shore, fleeting, into a drop of black tears, hidden in the picturesque downtown, drifting in the love and hate of the edge, to the end, also can't escape this fate. Perhaps, the mottled fleeting, burn feeling, like the humble of the setting sun, took the vitality of life? When the dreary dense loneliness, old face, who would be silent, tears, grief! All this, who can afford to lose one, time costinvestment banking!
A person's time, always want to quietly look for a book. Perhaps, only in this way, it can avoid the dust, all right and wrong, still keep a person's loneliness. Get a wisp of autumn wind, a piece of the moon a antagonistic, vicissitudes of life, a lonely road, a road confused. Not in the long past, the years flow. From years past, beautiful dream, and those young and frivolous, enthusiasm, now in the passage of time and the remaining geometry! The sea mulberry field, and precipitated the love and sorrow of who. Always want to find in the lights dim, but this world is everywhere. The fiery youth, silent forever knot. And this faint thoughts inside, but with deep sorrow war, rendering the youth passes as a fleeting wave., no place to exile. We want to use words to record this pale years, but I do not know why, I passed out by punching. Left, left deep scars, life forever fondlyManaged Firewall.
Back in the past, but did not return. Time flying, flying into the skinny years. A wisp of autumn wind, cold, a period of time such as water. Imaginary dreamlike encounter, moist this cozy tender. From the heart of autumn, buckle up barren. Wisps of melancholy, but in a misty misty rain. The old war not to go, but with the new mark, wet whose eyes, broken who sorrow. To the fleeting, buried and who love, that love who! My love, my love, lost in the wind. Petals drop and waters flow. A ray of Acacia, helpless, only to send to hungwomen t-shirt!
Suddenly look back, once thought that the oath, time was forgotten in the dust. When the dye ink, melancholy who dream! A tired heart, silently, wandering in the world of mortals. Fallen leaves of loneliness, but inadvertently shattered the fragile heart. Pieces of shattered in the wind whispers, but the ups and downs in life, leaving one to the autumn temperature. A person forever fondly, Chi who love, who will bury! Leaving only one person to bear. Fine time, disturbed who half a roll of green book. This is stranded the red line, ye who moved the dream. Think, at the end of time, keep, is not a person, ashes of loneliness.
PR

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