The Name is Trouble

I am trouble
Because I trouble you
Your mind races with thoughts of me
Your body flashes in hot pangs
In dreams of me
I am trouble
For the trouble I arise in you.

Call me complicated,
Call me crazy,
Call me absolutely fucking insane.
Color me infuriated,
Color me mad,
Color me in shadows profane.

In all the passions I had
I used no guile
I chose to love brave
And in your heart defile
The sadness of your boredom

I am trouble, for you,
Not for myself.
And in all these years,
I began believing such troubles indeed,
I lost myself to the complications,
I gave in to the narratives
And I sank into trouble
That didn’t belong to me.

I have my tricks,
I have my fashions,
I am not that simple either.
But I refuse to believe I’m insincere.
I balance myself
As I can’t rely on anybody else
And I turn to look for my due revere.

Call me complicated,
Or crazy
Or absolutely fucking insane.
I surely wish it was that simple.
Color me in dismay
As I refuse to do as you say.

Color me then, infuriated,
Mad,
And in shadows profane…
In Hell,
I shall be least unbearable.
Color me unbelievable,
I’d sure prefer it that way.

I am trouble, says you,
Entirely disregarding your troubles.
Lest my conjured troubles befall you
Kindly choose to speak to me true.

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