I read the poem of the Lord Byron,
till my eyes can't stop crying.

These days,
a thought came up in my mind,
which tells me that:

The words used to be sad,
hurting you and me easily.
and 
Writing itself brings pain.

 
I will not write anymore.
though Isabella said "You'll be a great writer." 
near my ears softly
when i was crying desperatly.


I write dairy everyday now.
Let the pain just be in my still-beating heart.
Let the word just left for myself.

I write dairy and count down the days.



so we'll go no more a-roving,
which tell two things.
one for seizing the day, said Carpe diem also.
one for the desire to retire from the world, said Death Wish.



I write dairy now. Everyday. For myself.
 


 
.