I knew a boy who liked to draw,
He drew pictures that nobody saw,
He was most artistic 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 drawings were different, no paper or pen
But needed a bandage now and again,
We stood by the river under the stars,
He rolled up his sleeves and showed me his scars,
He felt embarrassed and looked down at his shoe
Then I rolled up my sleeves and whispered " I draw to"
YOU ARE READING
When the heart betrays
PuisiDepression..........what more can I say? Not all poems are mine!
