I can feel hurt, and I can feel pain:
Yet I Am Trouble.

Treated like dirt, tainted with Jezebel’s stain:
It seems that I Am Trouble.

Alone in the midst of my inevitable abyss, I shy away from the blame:
Yet I Am Trouble.

A moth billowing, drawn to the chaos – my face seared by my shame…

I try to deny.

But I Am Trouble.