For To Create
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 ...