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Best Poems Written by Etomida Kayla

Below are the all-time best Etomida Kayla poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Life Like a Movie

LIFE LIKE A MOVIE

I want to live life like a movie,
The type of movie I would watch countless and countless of times,
I would watch it so much that I would repeat every line like I were singing rhymes,
The type of movie where I am obviously the main character,
And I would even forget that every other person even did matter,
I would dance and run through each scene with so much passion and adrenaline,
And who knows I could finally find the one to call mine.

I want to live life like a movie,
The type of movie where I’m oblivious to the fact that an audience may be watching me,
Even though they most likely aren’t or whatever the case may be,
I would do whatever I want without having to overthink each and every action,
The type of movie where my beauty is caused to be a distraction,
I would look my fears in the eyes and no longer be rendered helpless or weak,
For once I would finally feel like I could touch and reach the sky at it’s very peak.

I want to live life like a movie,
The type of movie where I’d be the hero that everyone adores,
I’d actually feel like I am important and not an outcast that everyone just ignores,
Maybe just maybe I’d feel like I’ve truly found my purpose, my calling,
The type of movie where I treat the world to be my very own stage,
And on this stage I’m not scared and I only know what is called courage,
The kind of courage that might just be enough to boost my school image.

I want to live life like a movie,
The kind of movie with the biggest plot twist whereas I defeat my haters,
And it leaves the audience in curiosity, enough curiosity for them to even become debaters,
I want to live life in the eyes of the cinematographer,
Capturing the beauty in every slight detail even if it’s hard to decipher,
I want to live like the world was made for me, and obviously it’s not,
But in the sense that I can control everything said to be in the plot.

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STANDARDS

“STANDARDS”

Let’s talk about the standards of the general society,
And not just society, the beliefs, normalizations and false norms believed by variety,
We live in a new world now whereas being your most authentic self is not just enough,
And then you begin to question yourself and society calls your bluff,
The truth however is that everything the society has made out to be is all a façade,
A deceptive appearance to deceive the likes of the mass media and general public,
And we the audience fall for this stage performance and feed into their lies,
The truth actually is everyone is living a life of their own disguise.


The normal we once thought was normal is no longer normal,
The countless hours we spend online watching influencers tell us what beauty is and not,
With every trend, every transition, every thirst trap we watch that makes our eyes rot,
That we feel we need to be a part of in order to feel like we belong,
But the truth is behind all that baddie and thickened layers upon layers of makeup,
Still lies the little traces of acne scars, the uneven skin tone and the dark spots,
We use these unrealistic filters cause we’re afraid society will only see us for our faults,
But like Edgar Allan Poe once said “There isn’t beauty without a little strangeness”


Many a time we lose the best part of ourselves just because we want to fit into another person’s makeshift reality,
Because unfortunately that part of us isn’t acknowledged by society’s ways,
It’s just a mask that everything except the truth displays,
People will only show you what you want to see,
 It’s better to just love yourself, be yourself and set yourself free,
Social media is now everybody’s emergency line for fixing their relationships,
Where now girls only want guys who can take them on the most expensive trips,
Don’t let them fool you with these unrealistic  standards.

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WHY?

“WHY?”

“Why?”
A question I never really got an answer to most of the time,
And each time I’m left questioning if my action was a crime,
Why do we do so much for the people who don’t even give us the bare minimum?
And then we get hurt but still love them for even up to a millennium,
How can a three letter word give so much life and meaning?
Most times rather than always the answer we get is quite deceiving,
Why is it so hard to get over that one person?
We give ourselves time in the hope of healing only for the pain to worsen.

“Why?”
I believe there’s a reason for everything,
But then again, not everything needs to be given a reason,
So I’m trapped again, treating my mind to be like a prison,
Why do all my efforts always seem to go to nothing but waste,
And then people are so quick to say “She was careless and did it in a haste”
If only they knew the wars I fought within me,
Maybe just maybe a voice will hear and answer to my plea,
Then I might have just looked forward to the person that I am supposed to be,

“Why?”
Why do I let my insecurities speak louder than my reality,
Everyone around me is so confident it makes me feel like an abnormality,
It’s one question but with a thousand of reasons,
Enough reasons to save that one overly suicidal friend,
Enough reasons to fix that friendship that didn’t have to come to an end,
So to me it’s not just a silly little question,
To me it’s more like a truth to every man’s intention,
Every time we speak just know “why?” is a question I’m forever going to mention.

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HIDDEN RADIANCE

Starting of each day with her not so fancy and cliché morning routine,

I mean school, home, church, work, was as far as she could imagine,

She is consumed off by her daily girly pop playlist which she plays each day on her walk to school to overcome the feeling of being and feeling alone,

Her music was one of the only things she felt she could be in her zone,

She makes a stop at her daily spot where she meets with her only two real friends,

Her friendship with them is something herself and others struggle to apprehend.

But that was just because compared to them she was like a shadow,

Watching every cute guy wave at them and bluntly bypass her was a hard pill to swallow.


She wasn’t ugly but neither did she feel like she was pretty,

To her she was just in the middle, not ugly not pretty,

But you can’t really blame her because compared to her two model like friends she felt like shrek,

Now she finally understood why Cinderella’s step sisters did nothing but wreck,

They were bitter, and felt unseen and deep down knew they had potential which is why they tried so hard,

But she didn’t see that potential in herself, she’d pretty much gotten used to the feeling,

The feeling of being ignored, the feeling of never feeling like she was winning.

If only one person had just told her nonstop everyday how pretty she was,

How her entire being isn’t defined by each and every of her flaws.


It’s true she could do a bunch of things, cook, paint, cycle, dance,

But comparing and looking at others they were much more advance,

She wanted to claim her place as someone special in a world filled with so much rivalry and competition,

People looked at her but not more than a second, leaving very little to their imagination,

She acted like she didn’t care but deep down she wanted the attention,

She wished there was more to her than her name will mention,

For once she didn’t want the words “pretty” or “brilliant” to come from her mother’s tongue or from an old family member,

But from a stranger who will give her something to always remember,

Even as the year goes by right from the beginning of January till the end of December.

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In my 16 years

IN MY 16 YEARS..


They always tell you, Comparison is the thief of joy,
 I miss those years of innocence where it was just me and my favourite toy,
I didn't feel the need to look at other people with such ease and then think twice when it came to me,
But as time or puberty or whatever law of nature we abide by has it,
I got older. 
And each year I had to say goodbye to an old version of myself it felt like I erased a part of me,
Like it never really did exist.
And then there was life which made every unexpected moment a plot twist.

Each part of me feels like it's own story,
But what type of story is written without being able to dictate what will happen next?
And I can't help but feel bad anytime I catch myself having way too much fun,
Because the last thing I want is to flip the pages of my own story with each page being torn.
It feels like I have to do everything alone with so much but such little time,
And I know I'm not destined for a life to imitate others like a mime,
The one who birthed me into this world didn't give up everything for me to just clap for others,
I'm not destined for a life to live within the shadows of my own brothers.

Each year there was always something new to acquire,
And not just materialistically, after all we're humans, it's in our nature to always desire,
I spent each year writing and curating wishlists on things I thought could make me happy,
Feeling the need to have a lot of friends regardless of whether majority of them made me feel crappy,
Because apparently that's what mattered  most in that time,
And as much as I was different or wanted to be different, I just wanted to be happy.
I thought I needed these things or people cos they defined what true happinness is,
And all these years I've spent looking for happiness in the wrong things and people,
I could've just been happy with life itself, for my self and by myself as there is still so much to unfold.