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You know, the moonlight makes everything look so pure, so innocent. It’s hard to believe that under this same light, so many hearts are breaking, just like mine. Each shattered piece reflects a broken dream, glinting beneath the stars, Yet, in this field, I stand alone, my soul as barren as the scarred moon above.

“Do they feel the same?” I whisper to the night, seeking kinship in the shadows, But silence is the only reply, save for the rustle of the grass in the gentle breeze. The world sleeps unaware, while my tears are hidden by the darkness, A secret sorrow, a silent scream that echoes through my being.

How many wishes have I cast upon this celestial body, hoping for solace? Yet, the moon watches quietly, a distant observer of my grief. If I could gather all the broken hearts and mend them with moonlight, Would we then know peace, or is this ache the essence of our humanity?

In the loneliness of the night, I find a bitter truth within the beauty, That perhaps, we are meant to break, to feel, to rebuild ourselves anew. For now, I’ll let my tears water the earth, nourishing the soil of my soul, And maybe, just maybe, from this despair, something beautiful will grow.