Purgatory of my Personality

Where will I go when I die?

Is it the same place as when my mind goes blank and I

Cry?

I assume it’s nearly the same

So empty

But overcome by waves

Pulling up to cause

A tidal grave

But some nights I drink with the devil

In hell,

Black heels, red dress

Next to his flaming triton I feel

At home-

Perhaps I crave the chaos

That I was raised by

But all the same,

Some mornings God eats breakfast

At my cafe

He begs me to wear my wool

But I strip my shield

And take the blade

The way warrior would

A nasty scar is my protector

A reminder that I’m stronger,

Now