DREAMS a. i.

I once knew a boy,
Who loved to draw.
Alone at night,
When nobody saw.
His pictures were strange,
They came with a twist.
His pencil his razor,
His canvas, his wrist.

We lay alone one night,
Under the stars.
He rolled up his sleeve,
And showed me his scars.
I wasn't alarmed,
I knew what to do.
I rolled up my sleeve,
And said:

"I draw too."

/TRIGGER WARNING/

Copyright 2016