He's An Artist

He's an artist

Who uses tools of silver but draws out red

His thoughts keep him tossing and turning in bed

In the foggy light of the bathroom, his talent is best scene

Tears reap his eyes as he draws about what he could have been

He cries everyday under the tree by the creek

Biting his lips to cease his sobbing not wanting to seem weak

But one day under the silvery moon light

He saw a girl with eyes burning bright

She stepped near the creek to unite with the water, to fill all her holes

But stopped at the glance of the bloody artwork on his soul

With a sigh she rolled her sleeves and whispered, "I draw too."

Tears glistened his eyes but he said, "I'll help you"