Yin-Yang, push, pull, always switching directions, 

Digging deeper, future bleaker like a chronic infection, 

Help her climb back up, otherwise she's drowning, 

Always feeling demoted, never in line for a crowning. 

She lives in the moonlight, but always searching for the sun, 

Fighting with her hands and never reaching for a gun. 

Her tormented soul, her loving mind, 

Feelings of betrayal is the sum. 

Facing the war, but always wanting to run. 

She keeps going when she's always feeling done. 

Yin-Yang, push, pull.  

Her soul's a harp, 

But her heart's a drum. 

-FBS