I beg for forgiveness. I ask the world for forgiveness, forgive me, forgive me for being a murderer.

Crime is ugly, but I have committed a serious sin. Others write words to express the beauty of the wind and snow, but I am here to atone for my sins. I am for my heart, I apologize to the people I killed in words, I try to get the world's forgiveness, I want to get the world's forgiveness, so that when the public security organs execute me, I can die with peace of mind.

In two months, I will be shot in accordance with the law. Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot me, and there will be one less villain in the world. I'm a murderous villain, and I deserve to be shot.

I accepted my punishment and I pleaded guilty. I found a lot of manuscript paper in prison, and I wrote on it, and I confided in it and said what I wanted to say.

Let's just say that I was shot, I deserve to die, but when you think about it, it's pretty cruel. So many people are looking at me and talking about me, and the date of my death will be discussed by them, and they are talking about seeing when it is appropriate to put me to death.

Sooner or later, I'll be shot, it's a matter of time. I've killed people, I've robbed other people's things, I've often been alone, I've hurt a lot of people, and a person like me, a criminal, a criminal, deserves to be punished. I beg to shoot me, I'm a villain, let me get out of here.

But I'm a little unwilling, a person dies, there is still a lot to say, and there are still 5 things that have not been done, what a pity. You only have one life, and if you die, there are still many things you want to do that you haven't done, what a pity.

I'm about to be shot, and I have a lot to say before I die, if I speak to the wall. No one will remember my words, and the walls won't record what I say. So I wrote down what I wanted to say.

In addition to saying sorry to the people I killed and sorry to their families, I want to say a lot. The people I killed were innocent, and I thought it was fun for a while. Or in a moment of anger, I will lift a knife and kill them. I used to chop a pig bone with a kitchen knife, but when I used a knife to kill someone, I felt that it was not difficult to cut the bone.

Whatever the reason for the killing, I know that I was wrong, I was sentenced to death, and I accept it. I was in prison waiting for the death penalty to come, and I was waiting for someone to carry it out. And before going to the execution ground. I have something to say.

I still have some books to read, I still have some words I want to write, I can't just leave it at that, I have to write what I want to write before I am put to death.

What I want to say most is, I don't want to die. I killed someone, and I should have been shot intellectually. But emotionally, I don't want to die. I like to drink tofu brain, if I get shot, can I still drink tofu brain? No, how sad it would be.

Anyway, I'm not dead yet, I can write in prison. I messed up the manuscript papers, some of the things I had written before. I put it in the back, and some of the things I had just written, I put it in the front, and some of the text, fell into the trash. I don't pick it up, if I drop it, I don't want it.

The words I have written are almost enough to publish a "Confession", or a "Confession", which shows that I admit my mistake, and by the time many readers read this book, I had already been executed.

I'm losing my freedom in prison now, but I used to be free, and I've been to many places when I've been free. I have a lot of travel experience, and if there is anyone who says that he has more travel experience than me and has been to more places than me, that must be a joke, no one has been to more places than me, no one has more travel experience than me, no, not one.

I traveled to a wild place, there was no place to live, and I didn't want to live on a stone or a haystack in the field, so I found a cemetery, the cemetery was robbed many times, I don't know who the tomb robbers were, but I am very grateful to them, they dug me a hole, I happened to live in it, warm in winter and cool in summer.

I lived in the cemetery, I slept in the bridge cave, I stayed in a hotel when I had money on me, once I stayed in a hotel, it cost me 100,000 yuan a night, and 6,000 yuan for breakfast, when I didn't have money, I found a place to sleep, my life is so ups and downs.

For a long time, I did whatever I liked, and I did what I liked, but someone told me that I could do whatever I loved, and I could do whatever I could make money.

I hate it, I don't want to do whatever I earn, I don't want to be a slave to money. But too often, when I receive money, I open the back door to others, and when I receive money, I become a different person. I really can do anything with money, and when others send me money, I will laugh at it.

The people who watched over us, like crows, sometimes they came in two, sometimes they came in a flock, they yelled at us, and I was so disgusted that if I were a tiger, I would eat them all, eat them all, eat them all, eat them all.

A lot of the things I did wrong, I got the punishment I deserved. Many times I say that there is no royal law in the world, and I am the royal law. But now I won't say that, I've been punished by the law, and I've found that I'm not so crazy, I'm not so arrogant.

I am guilty, and I am now serving my sentence in prison for the crimes I committed, but I am not illiterate, I can still write, and those confidants in my prison are sarcastic about me, saying that I write on paper, that I am full of food, and that I am idle and have nothing to do.

At first they said that about me, and I laughed it off. But they always said to me unscrupulously that I didn't like to hear, and I was annoyed that there was a fat man, a fat man who was very tall, and dared to laugh at me.

I picked up a page of bricks on the ground and slapped it on his face, and I saw bright red blood coming out of his nostrils.

I laughed at him, and I said, are you a woman? Why do you still have periods?

He was also angry and wanted to pounce and fight back. I have a knife on me, I don't like to be chivalrous, I don't like to fight injustice, but I don't leave the knife like a chivalrous man, I found the long knife hidden in my trouser leg, I slashed him in the chest a few times with the knife, scratched his chest, and then I pierced his body with the knife.

I stabbed very hard, through the stomach, and the tip of the knife peeked out from his back. I stabbed him fifty-six times, I stabbed him in the stomach, I killed him, and at the same time I smelled a bad smell coming from his body, I looked at him blankly, looking at him who was not moving his blood but moving, I put down the knife, sat on the ground, and waited for the prison leaders to dispose of it.

I was dragged into a house where I couldn't have escaped, and then someone came into the house, and he took an electric baton and pumped it at me, and I counted, and he hit me twenty-eight times.

He also tortured me with other tools, and I was impressed that they used a tool and pinched my fingers, and my hand hurt a lot, and I shouted, but, the more I shouted, the more it hurt.

I admit it, I admit it wrong. I admit my mistake, but I can't guarantee that I won't make it in the future, it's very likely that today I admit my mistake and in a few days I will make the same mistake again.

I once wrote a pledge that I would not kill anyone in the future, but today, I killed another person. Why did I kill him? He laughed at me, he said I was a prisoner.

Yes, I'm a prisoner, but I don't want people to say I'm a prisoner. I'm a prisoner, this is my identity, I'm a prisoner, I'm a prisoner, that's a fact. But when people say that I am a prisoner, I can't stand it, because I can hear from his mouth that he is despising me, he is discriminating against me, he looks down on me, he looks down on me, he looks down on me, he just ridicules me, he mocks me, he ridicules me, he can't stand it. That fat man despised me, and I was angry, so I killed him.

Why did I kill people? I killed people for a simple reason because I was angry, and I killed people for a simple reason because he laughed at me.

I admit that it was my fault that I killed someone. I accept the death penalty, even if I am shot, it is right, killing pays for my life, I am willing to pay for my life.

Before I was put to death, I still wanted to write what I wanted to write on paper, I used words to atone for my sins, I recorded my shameless experiences, and then tried to be forgiven. Whether or not anyone forgives me, I want to be forgiven. I am a sinner.

Sometimes the prison is very quiet, suitable for writing, but when I write, I often think of my daughters, my six daughters, I am most concerned, when I think of my daughters, I feel uncomfortable, I go into prison, the damage caused to them must be great, I don't think about their feelings.

If they talk to people and talk about their father, they may not want to say that their father is a prisoner, a person who has been in prison, has been in prison, it is too humiliating, it is too shameful, it is too shameful, I have made my daughter lose face.

People have a good face, saying that they are generals are very face-saving, saying that they are beggars are very faceless, what they do and whether they do things decently is very important.

I'm such a criminal who everyone shouts and beats, I'm such a useless prisoner, even if I get out of prison, no one will look down on me, even if I want to reform my life, no one will believe it, no one will give me such a chance. What's more, I killed more than one person, and all that awaited me was the death penalty.

This is how my life is going to end, and when I look back on this life, I feel that I have an indissoluble bond with this prison, as if, I was born in prison, I committed a crime in prison, and I am dead and I am in prison. I often fantasize that I was born in prison, grew up in prison, and died in prison.

I'm a prisoner who loves to write, I kill people, and what awaits me is not only the death that will come soon, but also the world after death that I conceive in my writing. (To be continued......)