January feels like a grand opening to a new life
February feels like a flower finally bloom in everyone’s
heart, but not your own heart
March feels like a marching band passes by, only crowd and
noises, without verses
April feels like a girl named April will approach then
somehow leaves at the end of April
May feels like maybe just a may day for all of us
June feels like our lie has been stack up, all gloom in a
cold room
July feels like we tidy up those lies, finally
August feels like coffee and tender soup with bread crust
September feels like we just wanna flip our calendar to
holiday marathon in December
October feels like a boring life we try to liven up by
laughing in a boring ways
November feels like some glory has finally flick up, nothing
says no in our life
December feels like, “Oh, Christmas. I must make a New Year
Resolution. A decent one.”
Twelve months.
A powerful starter, then we realize, nothing works. We can’t
always get what we have planned. A cloudy mind in the middle, set through almost
to the last but people always cheer up, suit up
themselves, do a self-improving mind at last.
We are a cycle after all. Twelve cycles.
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