A branch, broken and split, dangling year after year, clicking its song to the wind, with neither leaves nor bark, bear, wan, worn out by a long life and a long death. Its song echoes, cracking and persistent. Stubbornly, it resounds with secret anguish for yet another summer, yet another winter.
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字体管家婆
2025-05-11 07:35
胡木木
2025-05-11 05:43
水漾薄荷
2025-05-10 02:41
三十岁的人了
2025-05-11 08:03
郑叡仁
2025-05-10 02:13