TROUBLE
By Jennifer North


He’s trouble,
I guess I've always known,
It was trouble that drew me to him,
It was trouble that drove me home,
Leather jackets and motorcycles,
Rock & roll,
And hand grenades,
All exploding in his face,
A piercing scream,
In the silent night,
A motorcycles roar,
Brings it all to life,
Trouble with a capital T,
That’s all he is,
That’s all he ever wants to be.

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