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(6)
Only in one’s dream can he be truly free,
Why I dreamed so hard but still can not fly to thee?
Peering at thee from the distant apogee,
Deep sorrow makes me sick and I wanna flee.
Mad, Sad and abandoned as me,
Illusion is no difference than a killing barley-bree.
That’s why I decided to forget it indeed
But, before I tear off all these,
Let me write down some lines
To the Fantastic dreams of a KID.
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