You. You, beautiful you. The scars in your body makes you think you know a lot about pain and the love that caused it. The darkness of your past is becoming your springboard to dive into something deeper, darker. Something uncharted; something that won’t make you come out the same person.

You. You, reckless you. You love trouble and the hype it brings. It’s like a drug to you. But you know so well that trouble is only for the brave, and you weren’t always at your bravest. You are human; and it is human nature to not be brave. But when you want something, you do anyways.

Do you want trouble?

You, you come around brave. People think you are and sometimes you love it. You were that when you took a gem from somebody’s hands, thinking you deserve it more than the filthy hands of hers. A gem like that deserves something that can take care of it so well.

You think it was all your doing. But trouble is a two-way street and it’s only a matter of which direction it started. So you stopped blaming yourself for being ripped away by the current. It was yours for the taking—or so you think it is—and so you did.

When things are over, you wonder what makes things end; or what makes trouble start again.

Do you want trouble?

Some people are worth the trouble and you wonder if you are one of them. Along with the endless desire to belong, you want to be a piece that puts a heart back together. In your reverie, you had a rundown of all the troubles you have made. All the times it smelled victory; all the times it looked defeat. As you look back on all the mistakes you’ve made, you know anyone would be foolish to think there was never a hint of guilt.

After every trouble comes a big mess. Is there still a way to make it right? But the reckless soul inside of you yearns for the same thing. It yearns for you to go out and find another trouble to satisfy it.

But you want something less turbulent.

Do you still want trouble?

And so trouble came. It stared you right at the face. You know your reckless soul would feast on it, but there’s something that makes it less appealing.

You. You, tired little girl. They know what you’ve been through for you to just sit there and do nothing. The tedious task of going through all the trouble has lost its appeal. You brave little girl always after trouble now passes on the chance to feed your troublesome soul. Something has changed.

You want trouble to make things easy for you. You want trouble to make things right and pursue you. Even after all the ‘No’s you sent trouble’s way, you want to be pursued. You want to be on the other side of the chase.

But then your twisted mind would wonder, would it still appeal if trouble won’t be trouble? Would you want trouble back?

Do you want trouble back?

You spend the nights wasted in a bar, kissing a stranger, grabbing ‘em in the hair.

You want to be touched, oh yes you do. You want to be caressed, adored, loved; because the only way to deal with the void is to forget about it with someone new, someone who doesn’t take your scars into consideration, someone who doesn’t know the stories behind them, someone who can fill the empty spaces without knowing there is, someone close to a stranger.

You know what you want, but you don’t know what you need.