Sometimes I ask for my name
And I become confused
Due to how I play the game
With millions of dudes
I really get nervous, if I merit this fame
each has different ways, of giving their news
Am called ‘’Bosommuru’’ by some
A blessing for the great, but a yoke too burd’nsome
My students call me BM
Can’t help it just keep the fandom
Majority keep to sir
And it tastes like myrrh
Some call me ‘’kofi’’
And it’s simple
Others say Joel
I don’t know if it’s the one in the Bible
One calls me ‘’ntimic’’
He seems funny just playing gimmick
A friend calls and shouts’’ gyimii’’
And am not amazed he refers to me
I remember very well biggest boy
Least did I know life makes us toy
One preacher calls me bishop
Don’t like it when he makes me special
Some call me ntim
Those ones want to stay official
Lest I forget, one calls me baby
Is it because am childish or kiddy?
She calls me ‘’fiifi’’
I drop, and respond Sissy
You still remember omega one?
It was an amateur recommendation
The Siblings say ‘’braa’’
And I marvel because of her location
What this profession gave, tee
Smile a bit and cut the communication
A group combines, teacher kofi
I become angry, but that’s their occasion
In each case, this is my identity
And I submit, for thus how I lived with humanity
Writer: Ntim Gyakari
AIDS