Two Faces

There are two faces I like to wear,
One is sanctity, the other despair.
The face despair was for a while pleasing,
Wallowing in guilt was self-appeasing--
But wicked things last like a light autumn breeze
And now, life is empty, as dead as fall’s trees.
I could rage, villainous, for the rest of my days,
Cheap happiness, low highs, biting cold always
Bitter and sharp-tongued and ever alone,
Sharpening the tongue on my heart of stone...
But despair's emptiness is pure vanity,
Its life is brevity...
I won’t have that poverty,
I must stop this robbery!
I won’t be robbed of my life, my soul,
I won’t be empty, I must be whole
If I die empty, my life is in vain,
So here, I assume sanctity again.