Stealing

I know that stealing is wrong but I don't regret what I did. I only stole food and I only did it to be able to feed my kids. After my wife died, I had a breakdown and my job was something I lost. I would've gladly paid for the food but I couldn't afford what it cost. I turned to other people for help but they refused to lend a helping hand. People don't help others like they used to, it was too much for me to stand. My kids went to a foster home when I went to jail. Now I'm fighting to get them back and I won't fail. I have a new job and I'll get them back but I don't know when. But mark my words, my children and I will be a family again. (This is a fictional poem)