Book of Many Poems

I knew a boy

I knew a boy who liked to draw, he drew pictures that nobody saw. He was most artistic late at night, in the bathroom,  out of sight. He kept a secret noone knew, he didn't tell a soul and his gallery grew. His drawings were diffrent, no paper or pin, but needed a bandage now and then. 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 shoes, then I rolled up my sleeves and whispered " I draw to".