“I like your writings, but I will not read them anymore.
I’m scared that I learn too much about you.”
That girl’s words were like a mirage I could never grasp,
but I believed that the day when I could reach them would come.
Everyone has their own way of working, but I don’t know mine.
I wasn’t trying to find fault in what you were saying,
it’s just that I’m sick of living life.
Flowers are scattering, spring is scattering, people are scattering.
A soul has lost it’s way, the days of wandering without direction begin.