trouble

I fell apart.

Or probably I should have... long time ago.
It’s always been inside me.
Unseen, unheard.
Yet only few people have a glimpse of it.
And that’s bcoz they are similar to me.
You've never heard of it, seen of it.
The you, the closest people in my life.

Never voicing out doesn't mean I have nothing to say.
Yet when I do voice out, you view it as trouble.

I have to be considerate.
You are not engineer. Not problem-solver.
You cannot (or don't consider to... or don't bother to...) solve my problem.

And probably I'm not a problem.

I am only trouble.