There’s something beneath my chest since I read Dazai Osamu.
People I’ve asked, they don’t care about the meaning of death.
The world is cracking, nothing we can cure, I just hope the wind can drive me somewhere to begin.
Wish you could write me a poem to souvenir our 6 date.
I can’t imagine those fairy tales.
Sometimes growing up gives birth to a tragedy.
The things I did nothing much was meaningful.
Who ever I got near to, I know they just turn into gloom.
Wish I could turn into a merrily angel, then we would meet 10 times per day.
Wish I could turn into some elegant poetry, so you’ll be willing to read 10 times more.