Untitled

One day I will be so poor that I walk with two fingers
Laughing rhythmically under the pink-green sky

Your movements when looking for life are always awkward
Blood rubs out dirt as it flows but they are still red

If I can be let go of what I believe

There is a voice that can jam my head

Those who lose their secrets win in the selfless field
I just can’t wait for the corners of my mouth to be soft
I can’t cry

Inexplicably afraid to threaten another doubtful one

Drinking tea lying on the grass

Tired of sniffing in the dark, touching the ink with the tip of your nose
Like the flesh escapes into nothingness, nothingness is a bowl of hot soup wine

Those attempts I made always carry some despair
Real fight

I can’t tell you an unethical me

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