A battle wages on the court as the black silhouettes of a sort
stared, the war commencing, ball going to the other court.
But this battle was not played on the field made of asphalt,
but in minds of lives of the players, feet disturbing drawings in chalk.

One juked child support so that his ex couldn't afford to survive,
and the other charged his problem full force so he could provide.
One would hide behind his slick moves and his useless show,
but we know the moves are pointless if you handle them too slow.

On the right side stood the father watching his son's aggression,
briefly addressing that his son's responsibility was his life lesson.

Beside him stood the child watching the two separate figures,
studying their moves, watching the groove...
one's lesson was a real weapon with a real trigger.

The others were merely spectators to this one epic sport,
because all faults are set aside, when you're on the court.