He believes in me
Not what I am, but what I could be
I was still a kid
So I misjudge all His deeds
Maybe it’s because he looks like an old boy
With the face of a boy looking like some toys
So I use to call him a junk, schmuck and even a skunk
And I hate him
When he forcefully raises the whip
Like a basketball player that waits to dunk
With slates on my head
My teacher round command me to run
Oh my God!!!
This dude is feeling like a siscician don
While He’s nothing but an Indian dog
I thought we yeah it was just a thought
Now look at me
I wish you could all see
I’m now an adult
A soaring eagle and not the one that perches on overheaded
The teaching, whipping and discipline
Has all transformed me from a boy into a man.
I’m a respected icon of my clan
I know I choose to be good
But I’m never force the man that taught me
one plus one in school
Will never cease to give him credits even while
Writing my book
Nation builders, common sense givers, mind pillars
That’s what I call my teachers
This are like the ripples observed
When a stone is been dropped into a pond
They spread one and live on
Rear teachers never dies.
Rolland Ofiyo
08060185921
