Up To No Good
As a little boy, my mother always said I was up to no good, jumping on furniture, or running along pool sides. As an adolescent boy, my teachers said I was up to no good, speaking out in class, or getting into scruffs, As a teenage boy, my friends said I was up to no good, skipping class, or staying out past curfew, As a college student, my intuition says I'm up to no good, surving on Ramen and Raviolis
This poem is about:
Me