The former Xiao Sleep ~ the former poetry ~ the former melancholy ~ once ~

It doesn't matter if it's sunny or gloomy,

It's all life,

The most realistic colors.

Regardless of whether it is happy or helpless,

It's all from -----

Inner monologue.

Write a poem for the twilight,

Bring the warmth of the sunset into the night,

Warm every desolate dream.

Write a poem for winter,

Turning the blazing tropical of summer into winter,

Melt every frozen heart.

Write a poem for each day,

For each fallen leaf,

Take a warm name,

Let the autumn wind,

No more distractions.

1.

Poets are the strangest animals.

Walking with the brain,

Think with a pen,

Text by word,

Resurrected under his permutations.

No one is closer to the night than the poet,

Nor is there a poet who fears the night more than the poet.

2.

Seeing the death of the ancients,

I also saw my soul gradually dimming,

His hands trembled,

The brain also stopped working.

however

But he did not die.

When the eastern sky reveals the whiteness of the fish's belly,

The shadow of death fades,

But he was no longer a poet.

3.

He began to act like an ordinary person,

Walking on your feet,

Think with your brain,

Words died in his hands.

He finally understood,

Those words,

Live only in the night,

And the death he saw,

It is the life of a poet.

Life is a scar,

The cycle of wound healing is time.

In the passage of time, the wound is constantly changing,

People always heal the scars and forget the pain.

Fate is a moody child.

The last second laughs,

Cry the next second.

The last second immersed in happiness,

The next second, it was the same thing.

Hope is teetering in the hands of fate,

In the end, it was crushed by the fall.

Life is a scar.

I bandage it with dreams.

Weave your way through the city labyrinth.

Linger in the scenery of lakes and mountains.

This is the life that I once longed for,

Now he is tossing and turning in a foreign land.

Too many beautiful scenery coincides,

But none of them belong to me.

Life is a long journey,

Maybe tired and lonely,

But he would not stop my progress.

Because I believe,

Tomorrow there will be a better view.

Memories freeze in the summer,

The river of time is deep and shallow.

Scorching sun, thunderstorms, white clouds, blue sky.

I walked through the picture of the virtual and the real intertwined.

Walking on the edge of dreams.

I saw all the encounters and partings,

I also saw you smiling.

I saw how dreams shattered.

I also saw too much destined.

But I still believe in tomorrow,

It will be as brilliant as a summer flower.

On this night,

I'm in front of the window,

Listen to the sky crying secretly.

Nobody noticed,

Tears drip from bit by bit,

to hysteria.

seems to be venting,

All the pain grievances.

Tears wet the leaves of the sycamore.

and the wings of cicadas.

Until all her strength is exhausted,

Silence returned to the window.

Maybe tomorrow morning,

Someone will find traces of water on the ground.

But no one will know,

The sky used to cry.

Restlessness is always the theme of midsummer,

Memories became the only pastime after the restlessness.

Thoughts spread easily with the rainy season,

Pull at your heartstrings like music.

The one that affects the mood is called yesterday,

I don't know if I will be spared tomorrow.

The afternoon sun is still dazzling,

Some have already gone away.

July

The summer flowers are still brilliant.

The water flow spreads through the streets.

The surging tide separates the two sides of the strait.

I'm over here,

You're over there.

The rain blurred my eyes,

But I vaguely saw you gradually walking away.

My cry,

Dissipate in the wind and rain.

Summer nights,

But it was as cold as winter.

Only silently recited a sentence

----Good bye.

Summer flowers are blooming.

The cicadas chirp hoarse in the wind.

Midsummer, midsummer.

Even though there are thousands of prosperity.

Eventually fall into the yoke of reincarnation.

I have also been awakened from my sleep,

Stand in front of the window of the night for a long time.

Look up,

Trying to find that starry sky,

But lost in the dark night of the city.

I do not know

Thoughts follow the midnight wind,

Where will it fly.

If you also wake up in the middle of the night,

Please forget the restlessness,

I'll give you a hug.

The streetlights at midnight are a little lonely in the dark.

Just like the eyes that have been lost in the years.

The sleeping man is the spider of the night.

Weaving his dreams night after night.

I'm a spider who doesn't want to weave webs.

Prefer to linger in the night.

Look for the web that has long since been broken.

crossroads

The past is like a silent movie playing out in front of our eyes.

If you go back to the past.

Will it choose to go to the other side.

If you go back to the past,

Whether it will not say goodbye again.

Too much if it emerges,

Then it was blown away by the wind.

Maybe

Soul.

imprisoned in the past,

Go round and round.

Maybe

Wish.

On that day,

It has dissipated.

Tomorrow

Is there another me,

Chose a different path.

interprets another kind of joy and sorrow.

1.

We are still very young.

And love is already very old.

It's too old to date back to its age.

People know that.

It is a cure for loneliness and depression.

but ignoring its deadly toxicity.

Everyone is willing to take risks.

It seems that loneliness is more frightening than death.

2.

Everybody talks about the miraculous healing power of love.

Many more suffer from fear.

Not even love can heal.

People began to get skeptical.

Is love itself be?

The main culprit that makes people suffer from loneliness.

3.

Worldwide fear began to spread.

This is of concern to the World Health Organization.

The world's top doctors are invited to participate in the survey.

There was a meeting that lasted for ten years.

In the end, they came to a conclusion.

the spread of global fear,

is the result of overtaking love.

The only treatment that works,

It is a long-term taking time.

Don't pace at night.

Darkness is still looming around the corner.

The ivory world is just illusory.

The hustle and bustle hides in the dappled shadows of the trees.

Always ready to murder quietly.

Don't pace at night.

The sound of branches being blown away.

It's the sigh of death.

Spiders have woven nightmares.

Just waiting for you to throw yourself into the net.

Don't pace at night.

Moonshine is a poisonous liquor.

Makes you mad in drunkenness.

Don't pace at night.

Too many people are lost in it.

The red light at the intersection turns on and off,

There was a little more hesitation in my heart.

Let's go

We will have a parting eventually.

Let's go

While the sky is still dark.

The dawn comes,

It will make your contours more and more defined.

That countenance,

It only makes me more reluctant.

Let's go

Move while you're still walking.

Sunlight

Put the taste of spring.

Mass in the air.

Get drunk and have a sweet dream.

1.

Cities are labyrinthine forests.

Under the reinforced concrete are the fragile hearts of people.

It is impossible to distinguish between day and night.

I can't see the stars in the sky.

Thousands of people are still pouring in.

2.

The lights are on.

Light up the night sky of the city.

Brightly lit is a deeper shadow.

Those who returned late were speeding down the road.

He was hiding from the shadows of the light.

He feared the coming of night.

3.

The weather in the forest is never so sunny.

Every dawn and dusk.

The air is filled with oil and dust.

A large fog rises.

Condenses into clouds of different shapes.

4.

Forests have a different set of rules for survival.

People have a mask of separation.

Beneath the mask is another kind of joy, anger and sorrow.

Everything becomes unreal.

become distant.

5.

More people are lost in the forest.

Maybe it's not their paradise.

Some people began to wander.

Some people are waiting for death in a state of hesitation.

Others choose to find their way back to their hometowns.

I'm a weed.

---- doesn't even have a name.

I'm a weed.

In silence,

Standing in a forest of concrete.

I have no siblings,

I don't know where I came from.

I just know,

I've put down roots here,

will also die here.

I'm a weed.

My life,

will end in this season.

I'm starting to imagine,

That place called Paradise.

Maybe

That's where I live.

I am your shadow.

Hide in the dark of night.

Follow your pace.

Unhurried.

I am your shadow.

Wait quietly in the dark.

So that you are even alone when the time.

Nor will I feel alone.

I am your shadow.

is an integral part of your life.

Although you don't find out.

And I'm just your shadow after all,

I can't change the darkness of the night,

I live in darkness.

Under the lights.

is pulled into an exaggerated shape.

But he still didn't want to leave.

I am your shadow and your follower.

And you are my destination.

It's my calamity.

I am like Sisyphus pushing the boulder.

Exiled in the eternal cycle of day and night.

And you

but smiled at the dawn.

I know

Someday

All the encounters

There will be goodbyes

When thoughts merge into a point

Disappear into the sky

What can't be grasped is the past

and your youthful countenance

I know

Someday

All annual rings

It's all engraved with memories

The horizon in the distance

It's your closed eyes

Early morning dew

Blurred the sight of whom

I know one day

All vows

are drifting away

Say goodbye to the blue sky of the past

Tomorrow it will be presented as follows

Year after year

the winds of change

I know one day

All promises

It's not enough to withstand the passage of time

I used to be a believer

Like quicksand in an hourglass

No matter how hard you try

It's not enough to stand the time lapse

If

Goodbye, one day

I'll go quietly

Before dawn

1

life

It's a glass

Colorless liquid in a cup

It is satisfaction

Or madness?

life

It's a door

The world behind the door

It's warmth

Or despair?

life

It's a burial mound

The world inside

It's liberation

Still bleak

2

life

It's the stubble on the chin

Spotted white and desolate

life

It's a brow on the eye

decorates the melancholy between the eyebrows

Life.

It's a cigarette

Burning youth in intoxication

Life.

It's a road with no end in sight

Carry your luggage

Begin to wander

Life.

It's a train

The end point is --

Death.

I long for a beautiful death

It's like longing for freedom

In a place overgrown with dandelions

The flowers exude a charming fragrance

The cuckoo sang mournfully

The sky is just setting sunset

Or the bright moonlight

Poignant flowers bloom in your hands

Blood flowed quietly in the hands

My heart doesn't have to wander anymore

Go where it's supposed to be

It was the paradise that appeared in the dream

A smile was on everyone's face

There will be no loneliness and sorrow

Rainbows hang in the sky forever

The sky is unchanging and clear

People grow wings

Fly freely in the skies

I long for a beautiful death

In that beautiful place

The soul leaves the body and flies to heaven

The city is full of fireworks.

It's burning loneliness.

Flowers that pierce the sky.

At the end of the bustle,

Fall, fall.

Flowers bloom, flowers fall.

It is the cause and effect of samsara.

Flowers that fill the world.

Which one will bear fruit?

There is no answer,

Some are just unknown and confused.

The crowd waited in the darkness of the night.

Countless heads.

Towards the canopy shrouded in night.

Like a grand sacrificial ceremony.

Anxiety spreads in the tumult.

People keep leaving.

Wait for the crowd to disperse.

It's long overdue.

Maybe it also likes solitude,

I think.

Pierce the darkness with life.

Just for a moment of splendor.

It streaked across the night sky.

Like an epiphany that blooms secretly at night.

It streaked across the night sky.

Like a tear across his face.

Like an angel who strayed into darkness.

Passing by my sleeping dreams.

The smell of dust in the scroll of poetry.

It is the unwillingness of history.

Persistent rhyme all over the pages.

Burn between the lines.

Qin bricks. Hanwa.

Arabesque flowers, Han grass.

The image grows like an ancient vine.

Entangle.

Death is its only nourishment.

The autumn breeze takes away life.

Leaves all over the ground.

The sky was crying.

No one pays attention.

The birds stop playing,

Look at the clouds.

Fiddling with his new brush.

He was thinking.

Tomorrow

What weather to draw.

Migratory birds stranded in the north.

In the early hours of a winter morning.

Fly hard.

The sound of flapping wings.

Pierce the sky.

Intertwined with the sound of the wind.

A sad concerto.

When the last leaves of autumn.

Fall.

He's going to die.

With a flying attitude.

Together with fallen leaves.

Rot.

Buried deep underground.

In the next spring.

Bloom the brightest flowers.

Destiny.

It's a reddish-brown snake.

Meander in the palm of your hand.

When you are unprepared.

Give a fatal blow.

Destiny.

It's a lone star in the night sky.

Shining in the vast Hengyu.

By chance.

Fall with brilliant brilliance.

Destiny.

It is a mysterious ancient totem.

Buried deep underground.

Waiting to be discovered.

Waiting for destruction.

Maybe

I was a spoiled kid by my mom

I'm headstrong

I hope

Every moment

It's all as beautiful as colored crayons

I hope

Able to draw on a beloved piece of white paper

Draw out the clumsy freedom

Draw the next one never

Watery eyes

A piece of sky

A feather and leaf that belongs to the sky

A pale green night and apples

I want to draw the morning

Draw the dew

A smile that can be seen

Draw all the youngest

Love without pain

She had never seen clouds

Her eyes were the color of a clear sky

She always looked at me

Always, watch

Never turn around suddenly

I want to paint distant landscapes

Draw a clear horizon line and water waves

Draw a lot of happy streams

Draw down the hills -

Covered with a faint hair

I kept them close together

Let them love each other

Let every acquiescence

The excitement of every quiet spring

All become the birthday of a small flower

I also want to draw the future

I haven't met her, and I can't be

But knowing that she is beautiful

I drew her autumn trench coat

Draw those burning candles and maple leaves

Draw a lot because of love for her

And extinguish the heart

Draw a wedding

Draw a festival to wake up in the morning -

It is covered with cellular

and illustrations of northern fairy tales

I was a headstrong child

I want to erase all misfortunes

I want to be on the earth

Paint all over the window

Let all eyes accustomed to darkness

are accustomed to the light

I want to draw the wind

Draw a mountain that is taller than the other

Draw the aspirations of the Oriental peoples

Draw the sea.

Boundless pleasant sounds

Finally, on the corner of the paper

I also want to draw myself

Draw a koala

He sat in Victoria's dark from the woods

Sit quietly on a tree branch

Stunned

He has no home

There is not a heart left far away

He only, many, many

A dream like a berry

And big, big eyes

I'm hoping

I'm thinking

But I don't know why

I didn't get the crayons

Didn't get a moment of color

I only have me

My fingers and the trauma

Only shreds the one piece

Beloved white paper

Let them go in search of butterflies

Let them disappear from today

I am a child

A child spoiled by a fantasy mother

I'm headstrong

Could it be that love will eventually become a person walking?

Is there no end to the waiting for love?

If you held each other's hands tightly at the beginning.

Give you the tenderness that belongs only to you.

Whether love is true or not will last forever.

I'm at the end of love.

Waiting for a long time.

Let time tell.

Watch the years wander by.

I finally made up my mind.

No longer reveal your true feelings in the space.

Maybe Oda was right.

Rather than showing your true feelings here.

Let those who don't understand read.

It's better to go to the blog and show it to strangers.

Vast sea of people.

I believe.

There is always someone who will understand.

All right.

This is the last one.

Pale and weak article.

Come and say goodbye.

Say goodbye to the years I've worked on.

Deleted the space that was written and deleted.

The mood is fragmented.

Like the dim light of a street lamp that has been cut to pieces by the sycamore branches at night.

All kinds of trivial things are intertwined.

Like two layers of cobwebs intertwined.

Tangled together.

Can't untie it.

A lot of things I don't want to think about anymore.

Many people are reluctant to see each other again.

There are a lot of things I don't want to face.

Many times insomnia.

Or fall into a deep nightmare.

In my dreams, I cried out loud in the dark.

However, the answer to me was an empty echo.

No one heard.

No one paid attention.

Repeat a scene over and over again.

The same people.

The same goes unheeded.

Always have a stomach ache at night.

Drink a large glass of hot water.

The stomach was still cold.

The pain lasts for a long time.

Started to like the feeling.

At least.

Made me feel my presence.

At least let me know.

This is not a dream.

Fragmentary.

It was the sunset of that summer.

It's an old photo.

It is the noisy chirping of cicadas in summer.

It's the forgetfulness of each other.

Time spreads into a never-ending line.

Hope is torn apart by the sky into snowflakes.

Close your eyes.

Listen to the snowflakes fall and tug at the heartstrings.

Think back to the winter of that year.

Those bright blue skies.

And those innocent smiley faces.

Now. Indeed, everything is drifting away.

Silence faded into yellowed old photographs.

Memory. Hovering on the edge of dreams and pain.

It becomes a point.

The dust is sealed in the heart that is no longer soft.

Years ago.

I was still an ignorant teenager.

Years ago.

I still have short hair.

Years ago.

I was still drowsy in the middle of the afternoon in the hot classroom.

Years ago.

I would squint at the shattered sky through the shade of the trees.

Years ago.

I still worry about my homework that I can't finish.

Years ago.

I also worry about pimples on my face.

Years ago.

Still thinking that freedom is far away.

Years ago.

There have been dreams to be proud of.

Years ago.

We don't know each other yet.

Live your life.

Walking on different paths.

Listen to different songs.

Years ago.

I will also go to a hill in the afternoon to watch the sunset alone.

Years ago.

Life is so far away now.

So many years ago.

Like a beautiful song.

Eventually, it will all end up.

Like a sweet dream.

When you wake up from a dream, everything will be shattered.

Life has given me even more confusion.

The night made me even more uncertain.

Even if the lights are shining.

Shadows are reflected on a mottled wall.

Reflecting my flashy heart.

ps：

One of Xiao Sleep's personalities is a poet, a very strong poet.