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The head posture appears to be glancing into an inky void. Searching. Prying. For something. While the arms are fractured like many of the brush strokes creating a frenetic scratched appearance only adding to the desperation of longing while searching the depths.
Open inside
Behind my cold, icy stare
The warmth, of the sun
In my reflection
My mind spins like Jupiter
Storms brewing, smoulder
Yet there's clarity
There's self care and compassion
It was all worth it