Imitation Burns

they can trace the words,

but they’ll never survive the current.

my cadence is a force —

you touch it wrong, it bites back.


they study the tone,

but the tone came from time,

from silence,

from sitting in my own fire till it cooled into peace.


imitate my rhythm,

and you’ll start hearing your own echoes collapse.

try to fake my energy,

and it’ll split your life open

like light cutting through glass —

no filter, no mercy.


i didn’t build this through luck or lessons,

i built it through burn.

so when they mimic my style,

i let ‘em.

they’re playing with sparks

in a world i already set ablaze.


— Mr. Mak


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