Take a bunch of blood from your body and throw it on the wall, your picture will be painted.This is not a story of a mysterious stone.There are billions of dots of red love hidden. You will never know. From the beginning of time, a new lesson, which I have lost. When.As the silent sun shrouds in darkness, So my stories stumbling through the dark vast pathless sphere. Tell me, does memory have the dead?If it remains, I want it dead. Is the colony of birth dead? Why does it only happen to me. Fate has placed the heart on the bottom of love. Why am I a meaningless poem in love. I know that my prose collection will not touch you, but you will know for sure.
©xavier11
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