Yin yang short poem

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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.

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Flora-Belle Smith

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I began writing when I had an opportunity to reside in solitude, giving me time to come to terms with my being.
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2 Comments on "Yin-yang"

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really like this piece. hope to read more!
john m