Scattered, scattered, scattered

Poet walking on the edge of the cloud,

Plenty of turbid air,

Looking forward to the vast range of days and months,

Possible loss at any time.

 

The strong belief, as if a cluster of lonely fireworks, in the darkness of the boundless, if the shadows are destroyed...

A little confused, a little bitter, on the ideal road, struggling forward, a long road, gradually overwhelmed, the original confidence has been shaken,

Sometimes I can't help asking myself, is it worthwhile to choose this path?

Worth it?

Scattered, scattered, scattered