My name sounds like crunching chips
It tastes like bitter lemon in my mouth
It feels like rough sand paper against my skin
My name was supposed to be Gaitaino yabes Palella
My father, thought differently,
He wanted a name that related to him
He rose up and told my mother, time and time again
"It must be Joseph Yabes Palella!"
My mother insisted it to be Gaitaino; she stuck to the name like flies to a fly trap,
My name tasted like hard alcohol
It feels like a stale marshmallow
It looks like a Christian saint
My mother wanted a name of a man who came from noting
She wanted a name of a man, who raised a family from 70 cents an hour,
She, my mother, wanted the name of Gaitaino
If my name was agitation, he would be a good student
A young man who listened to his parents
Grow up to be a nurse or doctor bringing home money for the family,
A boy who appreciated his parents, even when they yelled at him
A man who would be an athlete, fit, not lazy, who wouldn't spend five hours playing video games
My name sounds like clashing metal
My name tastes like spoiled milk
My name looks like my messy room
That is my name.