I knew a boy who like to draw,
He drew pictures no one saw. 
He was most artistic at night,
In the bathroom, out of sight.
He kept his 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 at his shoes,
Then I rolled up my sleeves and whispered.
"I draw too."
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~ The worst part of being strong is that nobody asks if you are okay.~
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Peace out, lovelies!