I knew a boy who liked to draw
He drew pictures that nobody saw
He was more artistic late at night
In the bathroom, out of sight
He kept a secret no one knew,
He didn't tell 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 too."