I yelled out insanely ,
the first time the things I loved were deprived from me little by little;
I crawled on the ground painfully,
the first time the moments I cherished were wiped in my world step by step;
I knelt on the floor humbly,
the first time the work I created were destroyed in front of me piece by piece.
But ,
they never stopped withering;
they never stopped vanishing;
they never stopped dying away.
Then,
the second time;
then,
the third time;
then,
the forth time.
Then,
it is normal.