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.
用户评论
好萌的小包子呀
2025-05-16 09:03
豆小喵
2025-05-16 09:01
胶黏
2025-05-16 05:55
木有歪`
2025-05-16 08:51
升起风马
2025-05-16 07:16