I know you,
Like the back of my hand.
All of you,
And where you stand.

Those scars,
They tell a story,
Of wishing for the stars,
But never reaching that glory.

I know,
All those tears,
For a life that will never grow,
In these coming years.

You'd wipe them away,
Tell me it's okay,
But you were so far away,
Looking at the stars' display.

I know you,
Like the back of my hand,
What makes you,
And why you stand.