A person is lazy in autumn, and one person is accompanied by the year

Write such a word, the heart is cold. I don't know what else can be paid. I am happy, and I use all my love to miss. So about you, I have cultivated all the poetry, and since then I started to be unhappy. Poor, you are full of mooring your heart.

I don't know what the ending of betrayal is, perhaps the cold mood of a person in this life. If the autumn wind is cold, it will be cold and cool. If the autumn color, with the sorrow, with thinness. More and more silent, don't want to say anything outside your own text. I always feel tired, without excessive speaking, there is really no other interest except sleep.

Sometimes I also ask myself, what's wrong, is it old? How can it become like this. In the previous text, I wrote so beautifully that the decadence was abolished at this moment. Boringly, I may be boring. This situation may be too much, and the rest is the only lone shadow. A person is lazy in autumn, and he is accompanied by the age.

Since the scenery of the scenery is not the desire in the eyes, then a touch of the lotus after the autumn. In the strong autumn color, all the styles have been stunned, and this moment is decided. Like the silence and clearness of the lotus. Although she couldn't be as indifferent as she was during her lifetime, she still wanted to plant her spirit in bone blood.

Efforts to be a lotus -like woman, not the world's dust and fireworks. After the years, the old and cigarette smoke. Time is still, and I still do it. The insignificant insistence on my heart was slowly silent in my eyes. A person has less requirements for life and can be more longing for emotions alone.

I long for a kind of lush on the soul. Life can no longer be prosperous, but it must be warm in flatness. A tea, a bowl of ink, must be a heart warm smile. In line with the sunset morning, liaison with the Qingfeng Liuyun. More and more eager for a kind of quietness, Su Yi is the most beautiful fireworks.

With a person with time, he always eager for some different feelings. But there are too many fascinations, and the rest is the empty self. It is not that time can't make up for my mind, it's because I am afraid to dry myself in the sun, but the finger can't give birth to warmth.

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