This computer that I'm writing my poems on.
I literally fist-fought for.
My last laptop was stolen from me. By someone.
I never found out who. My saved writing, gone with it.
I couldn't afford to buy another one.
So I went and stole one.

Fist-fighting the guy I stole it from.

For to create my poetry.
I got my leg chewed up by a dog.
Sacrificed a little blood and sweat.
Was nearly arrested.

My poems and this stolen laptop are almost all I have and own.

I commit crime.
I commit crime, if I have to.
I commit crime, if I have a desire to.
I commit crime, to help make it through this madness.
I commit crime, to survive.
I commit crime, for to create...