In the evening sky, there is a broken beauty, I think of those who are about to die. For life, I am almost forgetting its definition. In this universe, some people can't wait to meet death, some people are desperate to keep their lives. These two extremes are the most hopeless. I think, I finally know what life is. It can be smashed when it blooms, and it can be lost when it disappears. When you remember it, it is very important. When you forget it, it seems that it has never appeared. "This is the view of human beings on life. When the sun goes down, the clouds are burning red and stinging. When did you start, I fell in love with life, chose to escape? I heard the sound of the wings, shaking, shaking. Finally finally Quiet, it stopped, singing the life that passed away. Finally, the cloud burned to ashes. The leaves began a new cycle of life, the dewdrops have already evaporated, the beach is covered with dark green light, I want to use I like it all in a normal mood Cigarettes Online. The sound of the seagull overshadows the sea and hears the sound of the fish struggling in the mouth of the seabird. This is the instinct to protect your life. The air is very humid, so there are warm things in your eyes. I only know that it is tears. It turns out that the tears are so salty. The moon rises, the horror of the sky shines, and the bitter cold. I know that tears are salty like sea water. Life is the bubble of fish spit, broken, It��s broken. The days in the church, happy? Everyone is in the car. Train, bus, subway... We always wait for the next stop. At the time, the next stop always surprises us; sometimes, we don't like to take the train. Sometimes the headphones are filled with popular pop songs, sometimes the songs of little singers that are almost unknown Newport Cigarettes Coupons. Hope, sometimes a piece of orange, yellow, orange and yellow, there may be a straw man on the wheat field; sometimes it is a green field, and there may be only cattle in the field. Looking at it, the next stop is coming. Next The station is quiet and messy. There is nothing, only the stop sign, because it doesn't make any sound. But I am not a god after all, and the next stop I often see is always so many people: the thief's eye Mr. Thief, young and beautiful students, white-collar workers in suits and suits, I go to school by bus every day. I am riding this bus, too busy. Every station, one after another, will be with me Carton Of Cigarettes, sometimes Even people who know each other. I hate this. The next stop I am looking forward to is all strangers on the train. Because I prefer to sit alone in the corner, busy with text messages that are wasting money. In the car, there is a familiar strange air. When I take a break, I always like to take the subway, but I also like the last car. There are few people. The next stop of the subway, I always look forward to it, eager for all. People are not moving into the door of the last section. My desire is always so small. Perhaps, the next stop, everyone is hiding in the last section of the car.
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