Hi Mary,
As someone who raised 4 kids and 4 step kids, my heart goes out to you. I know how hard it must have been on you. I did not survive it unscathed.
You absolutely did the right thing. I'm glad your life is back on track now.

As a child abuse survivor, my heart also goes out to this young man. I always try to look at how he became so mean spirited. What could have happened to him to make him hate the world? I hope you don't mind, but after I read your story this morning, I wrote a poem. Not necessarily about this young man. It could be about many of the lost children of today. I hope that's OK. Here is the poem:

Bad Seed

My mother was a crack head.
My father’s in a prison cell,
so when I was just a little boy
my life was a living hell.

My mother sold her body
to pay for all her drugs,
but when she couldn’t pay for them
I got beat up by her thugs.

My birthdays were nothing special,
and at Christmas there were no toys.
I never knew what love was,
like other girls and boys.

At school the children laughed at me
when my clothes were dirty and torn.
Some days I’d just stay home and hide
and wish I’d never been born.

My childhood was a nightmare,
so to survive I made the choice
to fight back with an attitude,
but no one really heard my voice.

So I kicked, I spit, I cursed.
I lashed out with my fists.
I stole from them, I laughed at them,
but to them, I didn’t exist.

They said I was an unconscionable child,
that I must have been a bad seed.
I told them to look in the mirror
to see why I agreed.

They taught me everything I knew
and then they dared to say,
that I’d end up in the gutter or worse,
maybe I’d die someday.

So I took the next bus out of town
since they rejected me.
I didn’t know what the future held,
only that I was free.

That was thirty years ago
and when I look back I see,
a little boy who only wanted
a chance to simply be

a child like all the other kids
with homes and a mom and dad
who cared enough to love their child
even when he was bad.

The only thing I was guilty of
was not knowing what to do,
when the ones who bring you into the world
don’t know how to care for you.

I could have asked for help back then,
but in my mind there was no need,
when they looked into my eyes that day
and said “Boy, you’re a bad seed…”

© 2005 S. M. J.