The Gun Battle

Some dimensions R 2 only B or B killed,

The kill is the beginning of the gun battle ills,

Upon precipice of mannequin, the strands congruent ball,

Allured by the tapestry, a black cop speaks his fall,

A service to the community, a mother speaks out her cries,

Unlike this cop of the shadow, the gun battle is in his eyes,

Enough to suffer, afflicted with wounds,

Hopeless entries inside the cryptic rooms,

Just sitting there awaiting his feet,

Maybe someday arising to his connected beat,

When will this battle surrender its skee,

and turn a cheek to a life of peace.