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“砰”的一声,单薄的房门被摔上,勉强隔开了我与老妈的“战火”。我趴在窗边,努力将眼睛放大,抬头望天,竭力想忍住眼泪,不让它夺眶而出。远处的天边,一只风筝忽上忽下地沉浮着,欲往上飞,却又被一根线紧紧拉住,想往下掉,却又被风用力拽起。恍惚间,我似乎看到了自己,可悲的自己多像绳子这一端的风筝啊,绳子的另一端却是牵在老师和家长手中。他们在那一端收放着绳子,控制着我飞翔的路径,想让我尽量不走弯路。但我却总是想离开这条绳子,离开他们的牵制,随
“Bang ” sound, thin door was thrown, barely separated my mother and “war ”. I am lying by the window, trying to enlarge my eyes, looking up, trying to hold back tears, let it snake out. In the distant horizon, a kite floated up and down suddenly, trying to go up, but was pulled tightly by a thread, trying to fall down, but was dragged by the wind. Trance, I seem to see myself, sad myself more like a kite at the end of the rope, the other end of the rope is caught in the hands of teachers and parents. They placed the rope at that end, controlling the path I was flying and trying to make me try my best to avoid detours. But I always want to leave the rope, to leave their containment, with