Warning Signs
Too easy to fall for too strange to parse
Each of my touches seem to leave scars
Too old to hold to too young to die
Too cold to fondle too quick to cry
I will dress in warning signs:
Toxic waste, Beware of mines
********
Beginning last summer I posted a bunch of old lyrics of mine. Early drafts, scribbled down ideas, unused bits, unfinished thoughts.
Among these I posted some final forms, with sometimes only a line or basic consept remaining from those early versions.
The short piece above is what will in the future be an early draft. It was written on Sunday, 8th of February 2026 and by the time I got it written down I knew: this won't do.
The piece is raw and emotional, but the rhyming makes me feel like I'm going to get on stage on a local village culture night's open mic with a bunch of other uneducated in the arts of poetry but having a lot to say villagers.
Not that I'm anything but for village culture nights and uneducated in the arts of poetry folks writing rhymes anyway. At least in this I don't have double standards.
By the following day I was ready to ditch everything but the last four lines. While the feelings expressed in the beginning of the poem/lyrics piece come from trying to express heartfelt things, do I sound whiny? Granted, the lines were not written without tears, but still...
On the other hand, dressing in warning signs takes control of what happens to the narrator, be as it may the end result remaining the same.
We'll see.
Fedizen of the mastodon.art at @ovro@mastodon.art, come say hi.