I was young and foolish den. That been my excuse, was my excuse. I can’t say dat about da things I did last week, or two days ago or yesterday. My excuse didn’t work in Judge Cornies’ court or with the cops last year when I broke a bakery window down town. Nope, my excuse is no excuse.

It wasn’t so long ago now; I was out on bail, now I’m in on life. Who knew it’d turn out dis way, who knew I would be sitting here in my cell writing on the whitewashed brick walls with my filthy fingernails. It was Dad’s fault he was the one that left, den it was Mom’s second guy’s, Jim’s fault. Yup he da one dat did it. He started the uphill struggle to really live; he ruined my life and Mom’s. Now I’m here for life cause of my excuses. I’ve learned dat now I got none.

First I told myself it was okay to hit my sister ‘cause I was mad. Then it was okay, in my mind, to break da window at dat one place cause my girlfriend broke up with me. Then…well then…now I’m here. And I got no excuses.