Troubles of the wind through the night

Not with my age, Wandering thousands of years, only live for the heart. Beyond the time off the lock. Lost now and in the future.
Can anyone tell me if there is tomorrow?
Troubles of the wind through the night, the street ronin wandering in a street, silently watching all this. Glittering light burns a loss of eyes.
Look at this bleak world, life is like a cruel shackles, cruel detention. Already can not hear the hysterics cry in the distance.
When to sleep in the early morning, early morning woke up, this is a weekend deserted morning. Without the companionship of breakfast, only tired late night and late. Lunch too lazy to do, sit directly in front of the computer, see that row of vigorous weak words in the eyes of the walk. Lack of life left only on the calendar of the red fork left time. Numb thinking, lazy body, as if naked in life and death line to make senseless struggle, leaving a speculation.
Tomorrow, can I be okay?
Studying the morning of the day is always bright so early. Alarm clock after wave of noise in the ears, are willing to always tangle in mind for a long time, so that the last hurriedly sort out everything, even slippers will forget to change out, directly out of the door, but the most annoying That is the narrow winding alley outside. Will always be filled with large and small vegetable stalls selling fish, ducks, all kinds of fruits and vegetables. I do not know where the water almost all wet the entire alley. I recall that the occasional evening will be fortunate enough to see the reasons for late sleep after the early morning, the street will be one after another stalls. Stalls often rely on the street to sleep. I do not know where the power comes from. Although urban management is often used to harass people from time to time, the problem is that elderly people are often placed in stalls and there is no malicious treatment. I do not know often think they seem inferior, but often so guilty of a sense of guilt.
I can only say that it may be okay
People always use force to interpret hard work, the world is so, but unfortunately I do not know whether or not.
The afternoon of summer days, the sun burning a powerful, annual awards ceremony without exception, the water in the canteen is always a looting. After the meeting, the trash is not a bunch next to the pile, but scattered everywhere. Later, I have forgotten what is the reason the teacher punished us running laps. In the physical consumption of bit by bit, who can notice the playground do not know how many times the waist sanitation aunt, hair messy, vicissitudes of the face showing a few folds. Each stand is painful, no one can guess, next to the little boy is constantly picking up a piece of garbage. However, every time she stood up, the little boy rubbed her waist with his immature hands. Two people so clean up the filthy land, I do not know how to speak, my heart full of speechless shame.
Pray to God believe that tomorrow is okay.
Good dreams, fleeting like water. For so many years, some people around me seem to be arranged in some ways and memories of this worldly emptiness can not be obliterated. Just want to sit quietly on the coast of life, do not move, wait for a spring bloom, write down the sadness of 'spring', folded into a dream of a paper plane drifting. Let it fly, indifferent to see the joys and sorrows of the world. I am nostalgic with the alarm once, nostalgia for daily hurriedly. Because we do not want to live lazily, unwilling to sink on this. Only wish to pursue life. When one day, I no longer imitate, I just want to have the same strength as them, not tired; when each one has a good, keep climbing up, and finally tell God. Hello Tomorrow! get redirected here | read here | discover here | his explanation | browse this site | company website | see here now | More Info | my blog