The Making (My Words - Extended) Poem by EatinB8 CC Ko

Poetry is like painting and music,
They tell a story
For me, it was a little funny and a little gory
Growing up, I was brilliant you see
But I wanted to be someone different than me

I could talk about the making of a cyclone
And its pressure enough to break, each and every bone
You’ll take from my tears, this much humility
Stir it around cause you need, that much humidity

On the other side you’ll see Davy Jones has chosen
My emotions, but I wasn't broken
Because if I were break every time, I’d be my own biggest crime
To hate myself, would be like faking my every rhyme
In the very same way I pull my words together
I learned to how to change myself forever

This life, we’re exposed to guns and games, immorally addicted to rum and fame
We get told our dreams are stupid and our values are lame
Should stop raising our fists, we need to raise our heads
Think momentarily what needs to be said
We flame with our lyrics and we,
Fuel them with spirits but be,
Regretful looking back at it
Because that’s not what we meant one bit

Why do conform to their reality, but not to who we are exactly
Our bodies decrypted like science fairs
Graded on things like, what people wear
Everyone’s a contestant and everyone’s a judge
What was a fine line, is just a smudge

If life is a burden, let it burn a little then
Don’t look into my eyes and tell me not to cry
There’s nothing wrong with tears even if you’re a guy
Let your soul free, and mind be

Pressure your pencil, and humidify your paintbrush
Lay down your hand like a royal flush
I suggest you mark my words and vow
If you can’t hear my voice, then you need to find out how
These words have soul as much as it has rhyme
So if you wish to start believing, then now is the time