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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Discount Shakespeare An anthology of musings Poetry by luxsick
━━━ ❦ ━━━
Saccharine
It's not all the time that you meet a total stunner, A razzle-dazzle muse with an international smile. That was exactly the case for my friend, Saccharine, For when she's in town, surely, you're in for a ride. She graces the streets with fire, a kick in her life's brand, And she lives to tell stories without the tiniest hint of a brag. When she isn't dripping auras in her designer clothes, She's either out for a cup a' joe, or out to paint red, a rose. Pardon me for assuming, but I think that's her strength— To paint her own roses in a garden of fools' gold, which She'd call superficial: a once earth-tempered space gone cold. Saccharine loves to travel, by pictures, park, or plane On a quest to discover if the roses she's been growing Are those of pure intentions, or those of any other name. Ocean to ocean, hill to hill, she's met friends, foes, frenemies, And wandering souls with their lives' hours to kill. Saccharine, or so she thought, was their rose, red as an apple, Whose story was one for the books, if time were made ample. She was the freshest ingredient in the world's pantry, The jewel-encrusted tiara on the beaming head of royalty. An open book she was to all, or so she claimed to be Unbeknownst to the one thorn in the rose that was her story. If hearts beat for her to tune out her unsolved mystery, Then, why, oh, why was Saccharine afraid of her own melody?
