When I was nine and reckless
sunburnt and covered in dirt
my mother yelled that all I ever do is make a mess
Now I make a point to clean twice as much as my siblings

When I was ten and childish
loud-mouthed and over-excited
my mother yelled that if she ever saw my face again she would kill me
Now I stay out of her way when she's angry

When I was eleven and enamored by the world
learning, stuffing my head with facts and numbers
my mother yelled that I talk to much and should learn to be quiet
Now I keep my discoveries to myself

When I was twelve and growing
Always hungry, always eating
my mother yelled that I over doubled our grocery bill
Now I don't eat much at home

When I was thirteen and lonely
talked to the moon and the stars
my mother yelled that I should get a friend; stop lazing around home
Now I stay out of my house as much as possible

Now I'm fourteen and finally happy
tanned and shouting at the top of my lungs
my mother yells that I don't spend enough time with my family
Now I refuse to listen to those screams

The words your mother says
stay with you your entire life
I won't let them