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

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