The Third Shore · Literary work
Desolate Beneath the Moon
By LYJ
Disorder, chaos, naïveté, confusion—the human body is torn apart, not a single piece remains whole. The moon looks at me. I grow shy, too embarrassed to meet her gaze.
Disorder, chaos, naïveté, confusion—the human body is torn apart, not a single piece remains whole. The moon looks at me. I grow shy, too embarrassed to meet her gaze.
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