True love is just a myth - the faint light of the silent night, strolling in the old place, the familiar road and unfamiliar scenery, the confusion of a person, the memories piled into a wall, and the traffic outside the wall. Lonely

True love is just a myth - the faint light of the silent night, strolling in the old place, the familiar road and unfamiliar scenery, the confusion of a person, the memories piled into a wall, and the traffic outside the wall. Lonely people are like falling leaves, and the cold wind does not relieve sorrow. Trying to escape involuntarily, painfully imprisoning my breath, no matter how hard I tried, every word, every word I wanted to say, seemed so powerless. The harsh winter wind has formed frost, frozen in the old place, how empty the silence is, and how broken the heart is strong. Too many poems want to write, write forgotten ideals, write the last round of sunset, a road and a street, a small hill, slowly falling into time. Let the cold wind take away the call of the dream and blow away all these years, the soul has been quietly sleeping at the agreed time, if the last tear in the eye is dried by time, let my story stop forever on the page with you. Whether love is always a tragic ending is inevitably too hasty, under the mask of who is proud of the false disguise, once upon a time I was not strong enough, there are too many losses, just have you by my side, hoping to hold hands tightly. The vicissitudes of the world only love is an eternal myth, too many people also have tears in their eyes for the reality of unbearable, even if they fall into the abyss still go forward, a heart that goes to the distance says good not to flinch, not to flinch. [Pathetic] [Crying is silent] [I'm about to cry] [Tears] [Crying]