This is a first draft of this poem... so don't be to judge mental.. :) but i appreciate all the comments.   

My Life Risen Up

I am the Iron Ore,

Waiting in the dark,

Waiting to be found,

So I can be used for all around

I am the scattered bits,

Stuck in between the ground,

Waiting for the glorious day,

The day that I will be found,

I hear a strange awestruck noise,

A bang, a boom, then light,

The day that has been oh so longed,

The day I have been found,

The man, he takes his iron pick,

Oh so sharp and strong,

And digs me out, of my black pit,

And takes me from the ground,

He takes me back, to his shop,

Where he will make a anew,

In something that, can be used for him,

And I will be gladly used,

He places me, in a mold,

Where my imperfections will be burned,

He places me, in his forge,

And I am burned anew,

I come out, a brand new bar,

A bar of iron strong,

And I, with no imperfections,

Must be made into something to use,

The man takes, his giant hands,

And crafts me in’ a weapon,

A weapon, not made for evil,

But a weapon made for good,

An iron weapon, may be strong,

But in battle it can break,

So he, must repair me,

To make me something great,

Repairing me, with fire,

To make me battle ready,

He drowns, me in water,

To make me a stronger man,

Now, with my new coat,

Of shimmering bright new steel,

I am ready, for the battle,

The battle that could be my end,

The master, who plucked me,

From the darken depths of ground,

He has made me, brilliant steel,

That shines for all around,