
Family’s weight lingers, heavy and cold.
Saturn’s presence looms, duty over desire.
Tarot murmurs of burdens, unseen yet real.
Ten of Pentacles binds, tradition’s grip unyielding. The Hierophant enforces rules, a cage of expectations. Four of Swords silences, a forced retreat into isolation.
The Tower crashes, shaking long-held beliefs. Five of Cups mourns, loss of self in duty’s chains. Eight of Swords traps, fear of breaking free.
We seek approval, but at what cost?
Two of Wands hesitates, torn between past and future. Six of Pentacles gives, but love feels unreturned. The Hanged Man waits, suspended in obligation.
Can we choose ourselves, without losing home?
The Tarot guides, but answers are our own.
We search for peace, in love shaped by expectation.
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