Brave little soldier, marching on.

He paints the ceilings, he mows the lawn.

He does more than any of us combined,

But it's never enough time after time.



She screams and she hollers.

She pushes you into chairs.

But the soldier never talks back.

He takes it all, he just stares.



I know what he's thinking.

I know every thought in his mind.

he thinks, "How could I hear these things from my mother,

To whom I've tried to be so kind?"



Just one little mistake is all it takes,

To unleash this demon who tells you your fate:

To be useless, worthless, hopeless, and worse.

She screams over and over,

Each insult, each curse.



You try so hard, but it's never enough.

But someday, soldier, you and I will call her bluff.

We'll throw back every insult she's ever hurled at us.

But we'll do it calmly, serenely.

There will be no yelling, no fuss.



Yes, someday victory will be ours.

We'll leave this place finally, though with a few emotional scars.

You'll set off, happily, to make a new life,

One without conflict, one without strife.



But never forget what your mother once said.

How she called you a loser and wished you were dead.

You'll often hear her screaming at night and you'll cry.

But remember how good it felt to say once and for all, "Good-bye."