西瓜日記

I do not understand how terrible the place around me.

I do not know how depressive the environment I live.

I just look up at the flower blooms in font of my eyes

I just look over the tree stretch into the sky.

You can tease that I neglect each imperfect day.

You can say that I inhibit myself not to cry.

You can say that I abandon all each beautiful flight.

But the thing really is that I am tired.

Tried of any dispute over benefits on my beautiful land,

Tired of any of the greedy of these powerful men,

Tired of the complaint for all the been pained

Tired of the unfair and selfish but nothing was done for that I can.

It makes me become same

Totally plain

In the so-called wonderful land.