deeply hurt my heart

Youth wind chimes with the breeze, makes it clear rule. That is what kind of music?

If we say that youth is a poem, so, if you make a rhyme that belongs to the days of your youth? If you add the breakpoint in the rhythm of youth? Do you see the beauty of youth in the poetry?

Remember? We are in the youth of latitude, frolicking. Hours of the day, is the time wasted, no longer return not to go. The autumn 18 years ago, I saw the world, what is a kind of feeling? Up to now, also can not find a right to the perfect words to describe.

Hours of pure, is the desire of the back don't we go to. In those years happy picture, gradually piece together fragments of the mind. Today, has been removed, so far, like a century. Those long just the memory of all the joys and sorrows, only memories. Still don't understand, what is my escape from the eyes of time, or time fled from my eyes? It that how to put me behind in time there is no corner of the sun?

Watched day by day reduced the countdown on the blackboard, just detection, the time from our slipped from her brow. Youth, so a little disappoint to us. Miss in life, often let a person helpless. But, a lot of miss, are their deductive, a lot of our own, but the next moment, being away from you.

Such as love, youth unfocused, specious, how many people, clearly in love, but once missed. Listen to other people's stories, moving plot, just know, want to miss, really too easy. When you discover that he was missing part in your life, but in miss again and again, disappear.

The youth did not stop, in this busy time, in such a hard time, what do you have the courage to say give up, do you have any qualifications to enjoy? The high three students, like us, we are now, more than eighty days of time, with the "waste"?

I think that anything is possible, the university entrance exam is just the life of a breakpoint. What is not broken, all in our hands. Toward that goal, in the heart. Not for the result, for lack of remorse.

I'm glad that in my only life Met a man who struggle for our better future.

The melody of youth, always is so beautiful.

-- "flower falls, waiting for the bloom --

The lush years like a movie, follow the design plot unceasingly. Such steps, deducing the life of another.

More than just a load during the spring and autumn, but why add a life deeply. Was filled with sadness, as if across time and space, the more the boundaries, began to curl up beside me in every corner.

Remember, the past parents face full of those sad words, deeply hurt my heart.

That year in September, I don't know for how much courage to choose this road, or is it that time the naive thought it would be easy.

Suddenly look back, I use too much ease fills it should have high four bitter boring.

Breeze, the migratory old leaf blurred my eyes, as if also in telling the same sorrow.