Criminal

Nomad in strange lands, Doing it with your hands, Not reprimanded dead, But given an actor’s head. Time to do, breadth and space, So you don’t leave your trace, Because your actions are private, Since you are not an ape primate. Caged within freedom and jail, In there, but your jail is your wail; The two realities are conjoined, In an experience you’ve coined. Knowing that right and good, Exist potentially within your hood, And that you’re free in your actions, Of theft and burglary subtractions. Although you feel it’s your height, To take that which is your right, You understand you are wrong, That to your good friend you belong. So you resolve every time, To stop your criminality mime, And admit to your friend malice, And take the righteousness chalice.