She sat within the murky gray in-between,
where the constant irregular
ebb and flow
of two extremes pushed and pulled at her body,
tossing her helplessly to and fro.
Black and white,
good and bad,
fighting to claim her.
Right and wrong,
warring as the angels
in Heaven and Hell
hath done for many years.
Somehow she's slipped between the cracks,
into a delirious state of middle ground.
And on each side, the pulling and pushing continues.
All sense of direction has abandoned her,
along with the last shreds of hope she pitifully clung to.
Now she's left with sores and aches
and a deep black longing that consumes her,
a chilling sadness that sinks into her very soul and
the barely beating heart glued to his hands.
Despair reigns in this lawless state of anger, distrust, and faithlessness.
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