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Smoke curls through late nights, youth chasing its wild freedoms— too much, too soon spent. In the glow of reckless joy, a quiet warning flicker’s. Parties blur to dawn, habits tighten into chains. We ask as we fall— can too much good turn to harm, and who decides the measure? I wrote this after reading a poem posted on Hello Poetry, written by Daan, a Belgian poet—titled Missing.
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Feb 9
Feb 9, 2026 at 4:25 AM UTC
LongJohnPaulBaldry
"The Measure of Too Much"
Smoke curls through late nights, youth chasing its wild freedoms— too much, too soon spent. In the glow of reckless joy, a quiet warning flicker’s. Parties blur to dawn, habits tighten into chains. We ask as we fall— can too much good turn to harm, and who decides the measure? I wrote this after reading a poem posted on Hello Poetry, written by Daan, a Belgian poet—titled Missing.
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