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