Black mood

If you like black, you have chosen light. Under the temptation of night, the warmth of you alone will not leave a shadow. Even in a sad background, you will not feel bitter or frostbite or infatuation.. The night is like water, moaning incessantly where you can’t see it. Many beautiful lies and vivid love can not endure the ordeal of water, the bleaching of water and the discoloration in water.. The hands of water take away the simplicity you love, steal the transparency of the sun, and strip away the holy coat so that all your secrets and moist shyness are exposed. Let the color of suffering, the four limbs of thinking, let your fragrance lose the chance to kiss the spring.. There is no distance between black and white, and there is no clear line to divide. From the boundless darkness, take a white laugh, and you can walk freely through the wind and rain, enjoying the beauty of the four seasons.. The real night is clear as water and white as snow. The night, in fact, is a kind of sunshine that makes people cry and feel happy, and also makes all your thoughts, even in the middle of the night, the darkness, can’t darken your eyes.. Warm sunshine, in the distance, sweet sleep, let colorful dreams accompany you to insomnia under the light. The familiar bells have long gone away, and the small white sails in memory are rippling in your bright eyes.. On the river of your heart, no cold winter, no missing, no freezing, no wasting. Your smile like water is enough to bleach the night on each side of the sky. You say darkness is a lot of unfortunate material, and sunshine becomes a sad captive. The cold will cut into your bones and iliac bones to support your Leng Yan and make all strange happiness and regret. When you wake up, the sun no longer speaks. You often cut off the head of dawn in the name of light and let all happiness die in joy.. Blood was drained before death came, and pain, as a bystander, has long been abandoned by you.. Loss of humanity. Your wise and bright eyes cut deep into the heart of suffering, see through all the insights, but are indifferent. Your heartbeat is the running of death, real and rich.. Chasing the truth and keeping silent, you are also the last flower in winter, wandering around with the seeds of tomorrow, letting the light of the sunset sprout in your veins.. When the sun is no longer a virgin, no longer pure as before, running for sorrow and joy. You are transparent because of the loss of virginity in the sun, and have holy thoughts, you will have a deep red, let your promise be brokenhearted, and let your whiteness fade. You use the elegy of virginity to sense sadness and identify with the maze.. The biting cold wind makes your logic lose its mind, passes through the eyes of the soul, and makes the expression of pain and misfortune fragmented and suffocated.. Days of climbing mountains and mountains, returning to the jungle of wind and rain, healing fate and mourning warmth with the residual blood in the wound. No call, willing to stay for your dream, witnessing the sound of water many years ago, has never fallen. The place where the song flows is still groaning constantly. There is no body of its own so far. The only corner hurts the light.. Touch your edges and corners, feel the gardenia – like breath and flee like the wind. Wailing preference, hanging the notes of your dream on the branches of the years, makes your pursuit lost in your own piano, making today’s flowers bloom with the fragrance of the past.. Where the sun does not reach, Chun Lv, who has died countless times, stands up one by one and becomes a posture of light to bid farewell to blindness.. Your silence, standing in the cold of the past, allowed the lights to deepen again and again, and the back of your departure. My loneliness. You run in the distance, I wander in a foreign land. Road know, wind and rain are also very clear, only distance and missing mutually close, moonlight and eyes love each other, is always a mistake, like the attachment across the river, bird’s voice cares about the sky, who is it? In the cold winter, the snow gets worse. Who is it? With the blade of years, the smile in the night is scarred. Why are there so many spoony eyes in the abyss of love, longing for wind and rain. Not that the wind lost its way, but that the road lost its laughter in spring, the heartbeat of fallen leaves, and kept pace with the rhythm of darkness so that the beautiful scenery could be reflected and cold with you.. The passion of the setting sun makes the dawn suffer, return and remain silent.. In the river of time, there are still moans at high tide, moving memories. Fairy tales travel all the way to catch up with the date of spring, regardless of the length of the road Shui Han, regardless of the height of the mountain and the sound of birds, making autumn sad, and the expression of winter loneliness, one pulse is connected with the other. To miss the wanton puffed up, to the tenderness of the scenery, to walk into the snow, to enjoy the profound loss of your voice, such as the flowers in March, and to open the grave of love.. Black sadness still flows with tears of transparency, your blue desire never cools down, the scars in the past still live in the heart of the night, and speak the dialect you are familiar with, so that all you meet will always hate the evening and hate the acerbity.. Your love lives in the shadow of the past. Three volts is winter, the moon is full again, it is incomplete, and the nimble and warm fingers cannot be pulled open.. Freezing the ice layer of your smile, the long-gone autumn sound, still scratching the dusk, wetting your eyes, the sound of many years ago, still controlling your strings.. Clear mood, has declined in the dust, full of growing weeds. The motto of love, losing the qualification to comment on sadness, blessing has gone away from you day by day, and your pink expectation makes the night silent and fidgeting..There are gardenia flowers that fill the hills in your memory. The wind followed, gently breaking a pool of clear dreams, extending the distance between you and misfortune, making the missing words fall into your tears as a weed rippling with the wind.. Your sad hope swings out green notes, forcing spring to come. The night swept away your last piece of waiting under your gaze, allowing you to pass through the scenery and return to the original liquid of love.. Darkness, no longer a painful hiding place, no longer a shy paradise, has long been a developer of privacy. The sadness in the sun can only be seen clearly and restored to reality in the dim light of night. Only the inversion of black and white can verify your innocence. You let tears fade into memory, which is the garden of your dream. Wind and rain, do not prefer independent separation, but leave some wet love in your night, touching the dark face and warming up the feeling.. Reading your persistence in the light, even some tiny cares, can bless the youth and make the thoughts sleepless.. Once all your simplicity, all your infatuation, and dark liquid are integrated, darkness is the first drop of dew when spring comes

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