I've made mistakes, but who hasn't? I had hopes that you'd never give up on me, but I guess you did.  When I'm upset, I lie here and wish upon any star, I could call home. But I can't.  Maybe I haven't always been the best of a child, but I've tried.  I'm left here in the world, alone; and I'm scared. I don't know where I'm going from here, but I can never forget where I've been before.  A father, over 7,000 miles away; a mother, never really known. Who am I? My name doesn't speak much with a family behind it.  So who am I?I am lost. I am sad. I am alone.I am scared.I am an addict.I am confused.I am homeless.I am poor. So who am I? I don't know. You don't either. Pace my mind, my racing thoughts. "They don't love you, no one does." "He used you, she lied. You're worthless." Stop! Take a moment, imagine this; a newborn, a baby boy.  How do you feel? January 20th 1994. Didn't you have hope for that baby boy? The one you held so tight against your chest. Amazed; your own creation, on this very Earth.  Fast Forward. January 20th 2012. That baby boy, he's 18 today. Senior in High School, big plans; a bright future. Stop! Who is this? Who is this boy? Is he anything you'd hoped he would be? Probably not. Who stands before you today? A mere boy, today, of age. A Senior in High School. What's wrong? He's not the thinnest boy in the school; the boy who "likes boys". But you knew that, didn't you? When? When did you know? That once baby boy you held so close, wasn't going to be the man you'd hoped for? A tragic case of an abandoned child, an almost- If I dare say, neglected child. A child who was.. Touched. In many way. Touched with pain by the wife of the man he sought safety. Touched by the man across the street, it's okay though, the man told him "it's just a game". Touched by the harsh words of a mother, who barely existed.  What about those long, painful and dreaded hours you worked at a foundry? Does he care about that, at all? Yes, he does! He has such a deep respect and love for the man who worked those hours in a foundry, just to barely make it by, to take care of that baby boy. Why did that baby boy become all these things? Because he was alone. For maybe to long. Three women you put into his home. In some way, they hurt him. The man he looks up to for comfort and protection, where is he?  The first, mother- or so he believes, is able to just walk away. The next, his "new mother", only to lay hands on the body, heart and mind of innocent children. Assaulted, you inquire the boy of wounds, alas the answer, as always, "I don't know". How did you not? Or did you? Maybe from this "mother", the idea of homosexuality comes into play. The third, seemingly the last, who is she? A woman you've just met- soon after a wedding. What wrong has she done? Search the boys mind. Age fifteen, the third attempt at a "mother". To trust? Not yet.  Happy? Never to have crossed you. Angry, maybe sad. That's all he's seen of you. But he feels it too, the sadness. Some the same of yours. Still, no mother; hardly a father. Refuge he has found, in what you had and he's always wanted. His grandmother, your mother. The woman who always shown compassion, to let him know he is loved. But doesn't he miss you? Without a doubt.  Senior Year, almost there. Years since he's been home, enthralled? 3 years previous, such hard work, dedication and determination. This is it, the final go.  So why? Why this boy, age seventeen, not permitted to attend a party, the movies or just a friends house even? The decline of his grades and the shortening of his attitude, this to blame? Perhaps. At seventeen, a life of no trust, freedom and little access of social interaction. This he is unaccustomed. Disobedience, insured. But is he really such a "bad kid"? He made a mistake. Should he have, no. And he knows that. Did he anyway, yes. And he knows that.  Eighteen, Senior in High School- Eighteen, Waiter at Pizza Hut. What now? He made a mistake. Eighteen, Senior in Alternative Education. Studious, to finish the few courses remaining, aiming for a high grade. Eighteen, at home.  He's gone. He wanted freedom, he met a boy. A house isn't really a home if all you ever feel is alone. The baby boy, your creation- he's in love. In love, with a baby boy- another mans creation. An outrage, the "sickness" begins this, you won't have it- will you? You've never met this boy and he makes sure you never will. The boy; he's young, he's in love and now, he gone.  He's struggling. He worked so hard, three years and in the blink of an eye, you took it away. Why? Graduation meant something to him and he was almost there. Eighteen, dropout. What have you done? His future? Dark.  Where is he? The "love" of his, they moved to a new town. That car? He traded it. Something newer, better; only, he made a bad trade. A total loss for him, or in your eyes, you.  He's working two jobs. What about this "love" of his? He's an addict. Selfish and hurtful. Months of being "in-love" he broke the boys heart. That's not all, the boy stays. His heart is broken, nothing else matters; yet he stays. He has nowhere else to go. The prick, brings guys into the boys home while he's at work. Times up. The lease is up and no money saved. The dog, neglected by the prick- saved by the boy. The boys car, never in his own possession. Cheating on the boy, with his own co-worker knowing the boy has high strings at this job. Just one word and the co-worker would be unemployed, instead silence. He still loves the prick. Five grown men, early morning-three am, a dark road. The men were drunk, Another case of alcohol. The boy walks faster as they slur hate for him. He stops. Two men stand before him, three behind him. He calls for help, not the police, the prick; call declined. Five men now forcing the boy to the ground, dragging him to the dark ditch. He doesn't fight, it'll only be worse, he knows that. Fists, feet and spit. He feels them everywhere. His hair in the hand of a man, he's never known. The hate pours from the drunken tongues as he's forced to satisfy them.  Rape. He's being raped. He lets the men finish, his life was worth more. He stayed silent. Knives being held to his chest, he was raped. They boy is thrown into the back of a pickup. Two miles away from home, he's thrown into the street. He lays there, alone.  Walgreens. He calls the prick to find him. The prick questions the boy, silence. The boy tells the prick he was attacked by two, drunk college boys. He was supposed to fight back, and he didn't. Standing in the kitchen, soiled by the semen of five random men, holding back tears, he mumbles to the prick " I love you". Suddenly the boy is covered, so is the wall, macaroni- still boiling on the stove. The boy meets a friend in Perry. Her mother, just re-married and moved to Garber. The friend and the boy drive to Garber for the blessing of the mother, to move-in and it's a yes. The prick? His family is soon leaving Perry to a new home, Mcloud. It is now he decides to mend the relationship. The boy forces him to get a job, he does. All is good- don't be fooled. The prick uses the boys wi-fi connection to contact three men he's tied to, sexually. The boy, being fourth. Working two jobs again, going to school. If not spent with the prick, spent at a new friend, the lesbians house, doing homework. The prick leaves, the boy follows. Stupid boy.  The bedroom floor of a fifteen year old sister, of a sixteen year old friend. Perry, Oklahoma. One week, the mother of the home decides the boy cannot stay. Why? With such a time consuming schedule, and now no home. Only months later the truth, the prick told the family the boy is a thief.  Garden Shed of 512 Grove Street, Perry, Oklahoma. No lights, no bathroom, no water. Just a blanket and the heat. Walking 14 blocks to the lesbians house for a shower. After one month of this, the prick has brought around two of the men from the Internet. Again, the boy is crushed.  Eighteen, homeless. Withdrawn from school, notice to quit both jobs, all the money withdrawn from the bank, left in an envelope labelled "Joe". In the shed, he lies, alone. Tears streaming his face. How did he end up here? This had to be a dream. No, it's real. Home? What was that to him anymore. Family? He doesn't have one. In his hand he hold tightly, a bottle. Flexaril, 50mg; 30. The bottle of Dasani now empty; Flexaril, 50mg; 11. He waits, this is it. It's all over now, no more pain.  Black. Nothing. No one. Just pure darkness.  He's awake. Confusion. 1:48 pm, two days later. Concern? None from the prick, his family either. The boy is alive, but still alone. He's hurt, he's suffering. His father will never welcome him home. He leaves. Bethany is a big place. Maybe the boy can be happy there. No. Close to two years since the day this began. The boy finds himself alone. The prick is gone, his family doesn't care. He's completed school, enrolled in college. But his lifestyle, location, it all changes so often, he can't hold down a job.  The boy, sitting alone at a desk in a motel room. An hour has passed since his last line of meth. He waits, selling love to another man. He's ashamed, he lives a secret life. He's hurting so bad but no one can see; he's reaching out but no one will help. He doesn't love, he first trust.  Nineteen, close to twenty. Homeless, lonely, hurt, afraid, lost, confused, tired. So who am I? I am the boy. And you're my father, the one I sought guidance, protection and love. Am I anything you'd hoped for? Probably not. But don't give up, don't walk away. I need you now more than ever. And one day, I promise, you'll be proud and I'll be a survivor. I love you Dad, I always have.  -The Boy.