I'm your mother and I'm tired of talking
To you know it alls
Who's often squawking
Giving me drama about things
You know nothing about
When you're expected to follow rules
You're ready to move out
Well here's how I feel
So hear me clear
Your threats of leaving
I really don't care
But if you ever come back
Your attention span
Say's you probably will
Nothing changes our rank
Cause I'm your mother still

Adapted from book of poems Looking at Ourselves
© 2004 by T. Duffy Afro Staff Writer

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