Nine

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 [bad word] tell.