Final Draft
The crowds scream. It rattles my bones. I stand on the stage
as the guitar screeches, the drums bang, and the bass roars. The static
electricity in the air sparks to an unearthly level as the undeniably loud crowd
grows even louder. With every beat and every syllable I sing the energy
grows. Chester beside me roars,
unleashing the anger held inside. Rob sets the base of the song, creating the
beat. Brad and Dave set power to the song with their guitars. Chester gives it flexibility
between the loud screams and melodic singing. Joe from the back adds an
ethereal feel, and then I, Mike Shinoda, top it all off adding in the second
guitar during the chorus, creating the music only we can create. The medley of
sounds gets everyone on their feet. I feel as if I can see them all. Their
hands wide open, as if they’re trying to steal as much of the experience as
they can. As the chorus ends I drop the pick and guitar and pick up the
microphone, spitting the rap verses to make it our sound; to make it our
signature.
The
show ends and we file through the back. The benefit concert was successful and
the funds will go to the Haiti relief effort. In the back, we hardly have time
to sit; we’re rushed onto the bus to get to the next concert. The next show,
that’s how life is. I pick up a pen and pad to start writing. Being Mike
Shinoda is a full time job, everyone’s counting on me to either fail or
succeed, so either way, it has got to be good. I’ve got to give the people a
show.
You’d
think it’d be difficult being like I am. High expectations, not only from the
fans, but from critics, people who expect me to fail. Hours upon hours logged
onto the bus, and then, after days of travel, I will have to give them a show.
But, you know what? I’m used to it. I’m surrounded by good friends, good
people, and good intentions. No matter what happens, I’ve made my mark. I’ve
made a legacy, not only with my music, but with my art, with my school, with my
son. I’m no hero, but I’m doing the work I love, the work I think that’s doing
some good. So I might goof off now. I might laugh and have fun, but nothing
will change. I’ll make music, and I’ll have to fight off the critics with two
fists, and I’ll have to stand up when I get knocked down. So say what you want
to say, try and put me down. But I won’t stay down, I’ll get back up. I’ve been
down before, it’s nothing to me. Because I’m Mike “Kenji” Shinoda, because I’ve
been at the bottom, and I can fight my way back to the top if I have to. I’m no
one hit wonder, I’m no joke, and I’m no weakling. I’m not going to give up, and
I’m on top. I’m Mike Shinoda, and I’m waiting up here for you.
This is a final draft to an assignment in my creative writing class. It was supposed to be a poem from the point of view of Linkin Park and Fort Minor lead vocalist, Mike Shinoda, but turned into something else. Enjoy.
