To My Future Eighteen

Faithful to God, no why to ask.

Take the God's gun, shoot my heart and gut.

My precious Eighteen, what am I to be?

A bird flying the sky, or a bug digging the land?

I have no idea, neither did you dear.

Just eat my thought,

tell where my soul was, 

and let me stop at this stop, 

enjoying the last beauty of yours！