What's Depression Like?

I Draw Too

I knew a boy who liked to draw,

He drew pictures that no body saw.

He was most artistic late at night,

In the bathroom out of sight.

He kept a secret no one knew,

He didn't tell a soul and his gallery grew

His drawing were different: no paper or pen

But needed a bandage now and again.

We stood by the river under the stars,

He lifted his arm and showed me his scars.

He felt embarassed and looked at his shoe,

I lifted up my sleeves and whispered

"I draw too."