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Sometimes, I am thinking, there is no paradise in this world; sometimes, still thinking Cigarettes Online, can we not be lonely, we always yearn for happiness, that is ubiquitous but still in short supply. Happiness is like a thief. When you come, you are silent Cigarettes For Sale. When you go, you lose a lot. I don't know how to catch this thief. I can't ask him for everything that should belong to me. Those ignorant jealousy and warmth are mine, but God confiscated them. He said, I will return it to me after this winter. This winter may be very long, long enough to wait until I grow up to see the spring of bruises. Perhaps, this winter, I have to sleep with my happiness all the way. God also confiscated my happiness. I rarely laughed at first. Every time I saw the warm blue sky, I began to miss the past, began to grieve, and began to be lonely. I can't bear to leave my happiness and happiness, my humbleness that has been scattered all over the place. The heart seems to always float in the air, but can't breathe, there is a faint pain spreading Marlboro Cigarettes. I lay down quietly, sleeping on the clouds covered with cherry blossom petals, waiting for the warmth of dreams to wake up with blue wings, which is not God's. The wing hit me and stabbed my body. It didn't stay on my back, so it went straight through. I suddenly felt a kind of power to take something out of my body. Then, I woke up and dreamed of sleeping. There is no paradise in my dream, but there is pain and loneliness in winter. I told Shuang Shuange tip of the finger is cold and cold. Cool, said, clenched fists are not cold. I hold my palm and hold it tightly. Like Cao Xi, I want to grasp the grip of happiness, and it is really warmer. The pair of gloves gave me a very warm and dependable winter in the winter that was enough to freeze me. The sky is still blue from time to time, there are clouds, there is sunshine, I like this kind of weather. Facing the face of the sun, I can't open my eyes, vaguely feel the sun kissing my eyelids, there is a trajectory of pain. Turning around and seeing myself in the shadow, loneliness and helplessness swallow me up. Looking up at the sky, still blue. Then he lowered his head and buried himself in the shadows. Seeing the time, seeing the hell, seeing the lonely winter is still very cold, the sky will still be as gray as crying, the wind blowing wildly, very cold, so cold that the pain is so real. Standing at the entrance to the winter, let go of the right hand of heaven, the lonely left hand, smile back, tell them, wait for me at the exit. I heard the sound of wings flapping. Heaven is to the left, loneliness to the right, and we are the angels of the world?
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