I once knew this boy
He seemed like the happiest person I knew
He liked to draw beautiful pictures
He drew a lot,
But only at night
When he was alone
Is the time he would draw
The picture were strange
They came with a different twist
His pen was a razor
And his paper was his thigh
He watched the red travel across his canvas
We sat down in the cold
I take a glimpse at the scars
He lifted his shorts and showed me
The many story's behind them
I wasn't shocked
Not a all
Because I knew what to do
I lifted my sleeves
And said "I like to draw too."
