Phone rings, It's 1 a.m. Private number. I know what that means. "Hello" I say. His voice is shakey, He chokes out the words. "Mom, I just got arrested, I'm going to jail." I took a deep breath, Giving me time to think Of the right words to say. "Ok, I love you. Don't forget to tell them That your gonna be sick." ****** does that to you... "Mom, I should of listened to you. I'm sorry. Next time I will." How many next times, Thinking to myself. I can't count how many times he's been arrested, And sent to juvie or jail. We both knew this time it would be prison. ****** does that to you... "That's what you said last time. But you just keep running back to it. I know your sorry. No matter what, I will always love you. I am holding you right now baby boy." He cries even harder. "Mom I'm scared of getting sick. I really want a cigarette." 21 years old but he sounds like a 3 year old, With a high pitched whine. ****** does that to you... Last time I saw him he looked 35 And probably only weighed 110. Arms scarred with needle marks Infected sores throughout his body. Smelled of sweat and dumpsters Where he had been digging for food. I barely recognized him. Where had my son gone? He couldn't look me in the eye. ****** does that to you...