I've gotten good at hiding, when I feel like hiding. My mouth is great at running, when I feel like running. Now I'm biting the hairs on my arm like I do when I don't know where I am or what I should do. I've been blessed with these eyes that come with innocent questions like where I'm from. Holding expectations to give obvious answers and tell no lies. But i swear there's nothing innocent in these eyes, because I've seen dead friends, and I've seen murder, and I've done things I wish I hadn't done. But that's not to say that I'm not afraid of long nights dwelling on past mistakes, because with life moving as fast as it does, I'll still have stories to f****** tell.