If I were a hysterical person who picked up a gun and pointed a gun at his head and accidentally shattered a glass in horror, the stagnant cement lake shimmered with the bleak moonlight reflected by the golden mirror, and the morbid touch transformed For a kind of subconscious rejection, if every light is regarded as a phantom, there have been countless festering fissures before the formation of time, and fear is not the only outlet. Put paper, pen and premature dream into your pocket, if you say Seeing blurry figures in hallucinations does not come from divine revelation, the metaphors of life and dreams are reduced to the burning of metallic sodium, then before the dizzy and suffocating nightmare comes, let me hold your hand In a labyrinth full of cobwebs, I will dance with you.
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