Betrayers Both
by Walker Watson
I can’t tell if purity is what I lack,
But it’s tearing me apart,
Mind and body—betrayers both--
Shaking, kicking, as I plummet from the bed.
My mother—her eyes, a mirror of my descent--
Finds me sprawled, broken,
Crimson painting paths from open wounds,
Staining the floor where I lie, a canvas of agony.
My head throbs in its cage of bruises,
Heart racing, desperate for a pause,
And sometimes, in the darkest whispers,
I beg for it to simply stop.
But it’s tearing me apart,
Mind and body—betrayers both--
Shaking, kicking, as I plummet from the bed.
My mother—her eyes, a mirror of my descent--
Finds me sprawled, broken,
Crimson painting paths from open wounds,
Staining the floor where I lie, a canvas of agony.
My head throbs in its cage of bruises,
Heart racing, desperate for a pause,
And sometimes, in the darkest whispers,
I beg for it to simply stop.
Walker Watson, at twenty-two-years-old, has embraced a passionate pursuit of writing. Writing has become more than a passion; it is a vital part of who he is, driving him to continually refine his skills and expand his literary horizons.