I knew this boy who liked to draw
He drew pictures nobody saw

He was most artistic late at night
In his bedroom out of sight

He kept secret no one knew
Each night his gallery grew

His drawings were different
No paper or pen

Be needed a bandage ever now and again
We stood by the river

Under the stars
He rolled up his sleeves and showed me his scars

He felt embarrassed, looked down at his shoes
Then I rolled up my sleeves and said "It's okay, I draw too."

<<I do not own the picture nor the poem>>