Ask for an essay about summer.

Sunset depicts your last shadow among the jagged flower trees, which easily hurt my eyes. The vast land is covered with abandoned wormwood and green tombstones.

The homing bird draws the golden exhaustion in the distance. Your smile and sadness are in the same arc. Summer is about to climb the solemn zenith. Who is sleepy?

Countless stars in the universe are countless lies. All love is light, which can only reach our memory and cannot give us warmth. Therefore, I can't see the expression of spring.

And the sky I can see is a smoky gray sky supported by my eyes.

Filled with inaccessible sadness, I used those gloomy letters to spell out thrilling long sentences, shot at the aurora, passed through the sadness, and the pupil was shot into powder by random arrows in a trance.

Your eyes quietly extended to me from the paper, as quiet as a bridge full of snow.

Your smile is a plant that has not been released for a long time, full of unprepared sharpness. That smile can escape at any time, and there is nowhere to be found.

I can't believe that once again, the conversation is still your lie, but I stepped into your lie again. Suddenly I felt that the rain poured on me all summer, heavy and cold.

The music came to an abrupt end. I don't know what happened. I seem to see my eschatological face in an awkward blank.

Like the sound of broken glass, I thought a heavy rain would come before dusk surged. Without lightning and thunder, the whole world was soaked in dazzling white light.

I seem to have entered a long river bed, and breathing has become a luxury. The oceans all over the world are upside down. I became a mindless teddy bear. Teddy bear wandered around, teddy bear couldn't go home, teddy bear lost his beloved, and teddy bear was so sad that he was about to cry.

The summer outside the window disappears in a trance. Summer is getting farther and farther away.

There are pieces of snowflakes falling in my eyes, still in the fault of time and space, tangled into a cold.

My sadness gave birth to a watery and patchy map, which stretched endlessly in the mild sunshine.

In your nonchalant expression, a few tears hit my jeans, rendering a few deep and shallow blues.

My sky, smoky gray, is like a swift river.

My summer is over and I miss it crazily.

I lost all my sadness in midsummer.

Who else can tell me where my summer, our summer, went with my hordes of sadness?

In the morning when summer disappeared, I fell asleep with tears on my pillow. My summer fell asleep like this, and my love quietly ended in my summer heart.