Baltimore

This city

This rain

This view 

Filled with irony

Regret and Hope

This time

This place

This pain

Of uncertainty

Of confusion

Of why

I look out this Saturday morning window

At the outside walls of a castle with no moat

And wonder what the citizens on the other side are doing

Are thinking

Are planning

Are dreaming

This city

This view of mine

Those words that play tricks on my brain

"Drop the gun or pick a room"

Really?

Is that the answer to this uneven riddle?

To this clumsy cadence?

To this city whose sidewalk cracks still speak in tongues

Understood only by those whose feet can read a broken braille of labored breaths.

Whose eyes can read the before and after

Whose tears go "splash" on the cement

At 5 in the morning?