Anonymous painter with his free poems
Wait in a deciduous forest
Look forward to a leaf of the world's most red maple
Thus, the traces of the past have been left behind
Use it to spell out the look of a poem
Wait for the withering, and pay tribute to the past that cannot be returned
The air is mixed with decaying remnants
The mournful cry of the wind sweeping down the leaves
Dead wood and fate are entangled in the picture scroll
The pen is light and reveals the heaviness
The light refracted his magic
Reflecting the distracted eyes on the drawing board
Memories awaken the most beautiful years
Crafted every time
They are all teenagers
He never bowed his head, always proud
Scrappy as if you were about to go
A gladiatorial arena in the distance
He did not sketch the most beautiful look of the teenager
The colors collapsed in his pen
The stone tablet is inscribed with the pen of whose pen
Floating dust fell into the heart of the teenager
The nameless painter memorized his free poems
Disappear into a dream without him
poet
Fragmented words between the lines
Can't piece together a complete sentence
Disorderly and cluttered combinations on the desktop
Is that
It has long been dusted by the past
Fragmentation of sentences
why
The poet discarded his poems
And why
The poetic soul quietly fled
Why
The poet picked up the stone
He raised his trembling fists high
Did it back
The kid who smashed the glass
Maybe he forgot
He was also a poet himself
The poet does not smash glass
if
Hysterical accidents spiral out of control
A poem without a name
The caged bird does not know when to escape
I never heard the early morning birdsong again
The canola flowers outside the window are in full bloom
I gradually lost sight of the color of the earth
Even the sun is away from me
Leave a large piece of black ink that cannot be blended
Transparent glass fragments tearing the ink mass
The fall of the earth runs through my body
The poet's eyes dimmed
The confetti in the pen can no longer gather hope
The setting sun that disappears with dusk
The room was completely engulfed in the night
Another fire was ignited
In that manuscript that was discarded everywhere
Listen to the revolt from the past
A grain of clear dust fell into the heart field
The sun's rays dispel the haze
Words paled in that moment
Where the pen is dropped
The poet is the most beautiful redemption on earth
About the Author
Su Yuanyan: A gloomy poet, I have never longed for any kind of life, nor have I ever demanded to live a wonderful and extraordinary life, just to live to die and grow wildly. ，
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