I wrote this just for you,
Whomever you might be;
I doubt we’ve ever met,
At least, not physically –
 
But I see signs of wear
You usually can hide;
The covert pain you bear
That has yet to subside –
 
You seek to put in words
A picture of your life,
But cover up the scars –
The trace left of the knife —
 
I wrote this just for you,
So if you happen by,
You’ll know at times we must go on
Although we don’t know
Why