Drawn

In a quiet town where the grey clouds stayed

Lived a quiet little lad they rarely named

He walked the roads with a lowered head

And carried storms no one else had read

The other children laughed and ran

While worries slipped through his small hands

For every fear he couldn’t say

He found a stranger kind of way

When the night fell soft and the world grew still

He reached for ink and quiet will

So he drew the stitches, line by line

Across the skin where the pain would climb

Like sewing up the broken parts

Of the lonely rooms inside his heart

Threadless seams in charcoal black

Trying to hold the shadows back

A silent craft no one knew

The hurting boy had drawn it through

Each little mark a story told

Of whispered fears and secrets cold

Of days where laughter felt too far

And nights that echoed who you are

The lines would cross, the lines would bend

Like maps of places pain had been

A patchwork made of quiet cries

Hidden beneath long sleeves and lies

He hoped the lines would make him whole

Like mending cloth or broken soul

Chorus

So he drew the stitches, careful and slow

Where the unseen troubles seemed to grow

Like sewing shut the cracks of thought

With every line the charcoal brought

Threadless seams in fading blue

Holding together what he knew

A silent craft the world passed through

The hurting boy had drawn it through

But ink can fade and rain can fall

And lines can’t hold a heart at all

Yet every mark the lad had made

Was proof the pain refused to stay

For every scar that fear had spun

The boy would face it, one by one

So he drew the stitches, not to hide

But just to keep the hurt inside

A quiet art beneath the skin

Where silent battles had once been

And though the town still never knew

The storm he fought, the strength he grew

Those fragile lines he once had drawn

Were steps that led the boy… beyond.