黄昏时分,晚霞被一点点蹭掉,亮晶晶的粉屑落下后露出微凉的天空,我站在学校的露台上,张开手臂像是拥抱落日的余光,想象着我站在冰川之上,披着铠甲,手握权杖,身后的阳光将我前方的路照得光芒万丈。睁开双眼,高高的围墙阻隔了我的眺望,没有阻隔的是身后那些一如既往的讥笑。我垂下手,抱紧怀中的诗稿,没有理会他们,边走边想应付班主任的幌子。或许班主任说的是对的,在这样的重点中学,写诗就是浪费资源,像我这样就是在浪费生命。但我没有放弃写诗的念头,对 At dusk, the sunset was a little bit rub off, shiny crystal powder falling exposed cool sky, I stood on the school’s terrace, open arms like the sun hugging the sunset, imagine me standing above the glacier, Wearing armor, holding the scepter, the sun behind me will shine in front of the road shine. Open your eyes, high walls blocking my view, there is no barrier behind those who, as always, ridiculed. I drop my hand and hold my poem in my arms, ignore them and try to meet the teacher’s guise. Perhaps the class teacher said yes, in such a key middle school, writing poetry is a waste of resources, as I was wasting lives. But I did not give up the idea of ​​writing poetry, right