Our Games, Their Love

When I play desperate games like a crow at dusk, Pursue your own beliefs and freedom, But it opened a dazzling wound on their love, and blood flowed freely. An unexpected slap in the face, an irreparable life, a forcibly imposed abnormal love, an insensitive retreat... Stabs and twisted doors, games of blood and violence, devoured our lives. When everyone is hurt to pieces, will I understand that their love, even if it turns into invisible shackles, will still be an eternally warm existence? This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.