I met you when you were nine, And you’d already been homeless for over half your life. I was seventeen then, a kid from the suburbs And knew i was in a tight race of having the worst life. I met you when you were nine your parents already abandoned you and left you to care for your two younger siblings ages 4 and 5. I, a teenager in the suburbs, with no real responsibilities other than attempting to make good grades in school but my life was so chaotic i didn’t even do that. I met you, when you were nine and before they you were abandoned they prostituted you for drugs and money. I was seventeen then with a dad who wasn’t around because he was working to provide for me. I met you when you were nine After your parents left you, You continued to prostitute and beg To feed yourself and 2 others, I was a young adult, complaining about not having enough to eat and not having the newest video game counsel. I met you and you had a smile on your face, You told me your story and said “My life has been saved by these people, I have a bed my brother and sister have beds next to mine, I have food and you are here helping to build a school so we can learn to read and write.” Her smile went to sadness, as she said “but many of us are out there. still not eating, still trying to surviving, being abused but mostly people walk past us as if we do not exist” But I can smile because of people like you who have changed my life.” Little did this young lady know it was my life she changed and inspired.
I’m alone because I saw what you did to mom and what you did to sister. When your eyes turned to me, I ran.
No, I don’t think smoking is cool, But I know it helps when I’m hungry, No, I don’t think drinking is cool But I know it helps to keep me warm No I don’t think drugs are cool But it helps me forget. I guess I fit the stereotype, I’m just a lazy addict. Your perception of me is your reality of me. If only you could see me, you would know better.
Look into my Eyes and See my Pain my Mother an addict my Father an abusive drunk I saw him, strangle her and hit her I remember hiding and closing my eyes But the yelling, the screaming. To everyone else we were a perfect family. Yet I was scared to go home. I had everything, and nothing at all. So at eleven I ran, been homeless since. I guess this was my choice. Look into my eyes and See My Pain
Do you know what it’s like to hate yourself and ignore what you feel? For years I did this. I am gay, and for years I hated myself. I believed I was a sinner because it and that I deserved to go to hell. At the point that I wanted to end my life, I decided to confide in my “Christian” parents. I was rejected and disowned, I’m 15, I’m homeless, I’m afraid, I’m gay.
He seemed to care, he brought me food and a blanket to sleep on, I thought he cared. I began to trust him. He said he’d help me get off the streets, I believed, I depended on him, I followed him. He took me to a house, but there were others young girls, I tried to run…
Dear God, Mommy smiles, but I know she isn’t happy she is always drinking, we have been sleeping outside I think she forgot how to get home, I’m trying to be the man of the house for daddy I find us food every day and look I’m praying. Please help mommy find our way home. P.S tell daddy I said, Hi.
I’m on a journey I don’t know how I got here but I know I’m no longer scared it seemed that all of a sudden I was snatched up and taken to a different place. It was just as dark but it was okay, for the first in a while I have food, I can eat, i can drink. I didn’t know at first, but I knew at first, but it was better than being on the streets begging, not drinking, not eating Then all of a sudden i knew They started drugging me and then things happened after. The things that would happen after. The things that will happen after. the drugs make the things easier but they do not make me forget. Now I’m on this journey I don’t know how I got here. But I’m no longer scared. I’m just tired. I’m just tired.
You say “I’m homeless because of my bad life choices” okay let me tell you about that, I’ll keep it short.. I did make a choice, to run away from a house. A house were my mother was an addict. A father, oh wait it was countless men coming in and out of the house many would get drunk or high etc. etc. They’d beat the woman that gave birth to me, rape her, let their friends rape her and then by 12 they were doing the same to me. So I made a choice I ran and became homeless. But again it was never a home to begin with. Now let me tell you about being homeless, I’ll keep it short It was better than the house I ran from until, I was abducted and sold to the highest bidder in a world of sex trafficking.
I came to the realize that, Soon, I will be used up and no longer valuable to the people that purchased me. Like an old toy, They’ll throw me out into the streets. Then I’ll be no longer bound by these ropes but forever bound by my experiences. When I am old and homeless you will look at me and say “it was because of my life choices”. While my hands are out, you’ll look straight ahead, pretending not see I will say Fuck you and then cry, but no one will see my tears because they are all long gone.
I am what happens when you live in a world where there is too many people trying but not living. Too many families not eating. Too many thirsty too many homeless. Not enough jobs. Plenty of money but and not enough love. There’s so much Greed, corruption, poverty and tragedy. Our reality is blurred by lies and misunderstandings. perception becomes reality and here I am. You walk past me every day but you have never seen me. You’re too busy striving for the “American Dream” and living your own perception of reality. My truth is, as my hands are out, I want to food and something to eat, But need you to look at me because it’s love that I need.
Job Undone Pure Religion, In Gods eyes is this: To visit orphans and widows in there trouble, and keep oneself unspotted from the world On one side of the tracks are the homeless the orphans and the widows barely living barely eating. On the other side of the tracks I see the “Christians” living great and fat in their comfort and luxury staying within their social classes. But they “pray” for those whom have nothing and are thankful for their wealth. Talk without action is nothing. To be religious you must go visit the orphans and the widows and remain unspotted from the world. 73.7 percent of the US claim to be Christian, get up and do your Gods work or stop claiming to be something your not.