his art

I knew a boy who liked to draw
He drew pictures that nobody saw
He was more of an artist at night
In his bathroom, out of everybody’s sight
He kept a secret no one knew
Though he never told anyone, his gallery grew
His drawings were different., no paper
But needed a bandage then and now
We stood by the water watching stars
He rolled up his sleeves and showed me his scars
He felt embarrassed and looked down at his feet
Then I rolled up mine and whispered:
“I draw too”.