Deep-diving into the culprits of my self-deprecation, "Discount Shakespeare" showcases all 50 of my poems, originally posted on Twitter, which I had written from my high school years to this day (whenever this gets published, I guess).
Teeming with...
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Discount Shakespeare An anthology of musings Poetry by luxsick
━━━ ❦ ━━━
Pale and part-perishable
People look at scars and think, "What dread must they Bear and bring to the weary, the weak, the lovesick?" They're patches of pain, past and present on my skin. But fret not, as much worse is where I've already been. I ask them, "Why are scars the backbones of betrayal, The pinnacles of a love that's wasted and ephemeral, When the bullet train exists 'til you bleed to a pulp, And the fires of neglect keep your blood pressure up?" Scars are the after, not the before, not the during— They're pale and part-perishable, not for decorating. Overrated depictions of our regrets and mistakes, They peel right off when they've grown tired of our distaste. As afters, they don't hurt as much as you'd think. Sure, there is pain, but the most you'd feel is a bee's sting. They aren't obstacles that help in strength-building. So, if you think you're weak over scars of scarce pain, Just imagine that they're much, much weaker than you For on the battles you've borne, they won't remain.
