She is a mineral water bottle, he is a bouquet of narcissus.
Everyday, when night falls and their lyrical silhouettes gradually emerge,
I feel so sorrowful.
Like something metaphorical is hidden behind the curtain,
a tragedy, or a melodrama.
God sent them to teach me a moral, which I didn't comprehend yet.
But now the flowers are dying, soon he will become a bunch of spring onion.
What should I explain to Ms Bottle?
Maybe I can only throw them to the bin together...
That would be more kind, humanitarian.
Then I will feel guilty eternally. (Even it is not my fault.)
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