Rainy Day Writing

The Floods.

Maybe if mothers loved there daughters,
And fathers didn't rape them,
Maybe little girls could grow,
And words would not degrade them,

Maybe if brothers helped there sisters,
Instead of fed there grudge,
And help them more then once,
Maybe they could love them even with resentment that would not budge,

Maybe if when little girls ran for cover,
Predators weren't there to lie in wait,
Maybe little girls wouldn't starve them selfs,
And would eat what's on their plates,

Maybe if trust wasn't always broken,
And people closest didn't lie,
Maybe little girls wouldn't snap their wings,
And instead could learn to fly,

Maybe if family didn't touch them in their sleep,
And sit at the end of their beds,
Maybe they could quiet all the fears that filled their heads,
Maybe then little girls wouldn't wish that they were dead,

Maybe if people didn't always say that boys will be boys,
And that kids can be cruel,
Maybe little girls wouldn't be abused,
By those who were exempt from basic rules,

Maybe the rain will never end,
And that too was just a lie,
Maybe it will storm forever,
With angry clouds that fill the sky,

Maybe Drowning is just a syptom of living,
And choking is just a way of life,
Maybe feeling like your dying,
Is what if feels like to survive,

Maybe if mothers didn't beat their daughters,
And fathers left them the fuck alone,
Maybe childhoods wouldn't be so broken,
And little girls could have a home,

Maybe if friends weren't always enemy's,
And family wouldn't always mistreat them,
Maybe little girls could branch out,
And finally enjoy there freedoms,

Maybe if mothers fists didn't feel like bricks upon a child's face,
Maybe if fathers didn't get there kicks by stealing a child's grace,
Maybe if hearts so cold they'd turned to stone many years ago,
Didn't seek to hurt little girls and drag them down to the depths below,
Maybe little girls wouldn't cry themselves to sleep at night and parents would reap what they sew,

Maybe if it didn't always rain,
If it wasn't always cloudy,
If the sky would open up,
If my pain didn't soround me,
If the past wasn't a cloud,
That sat looming overhead,
If the sun would share its rays,
If the waters didn't run red,
If a mothers scorn,
Could be forgotten and discarded like my feelings,
If she didn't hate me for being born,
Then perhaps I wouldn't have been beaten,
If father took his last breath before we had ever met,
If mom didn't use me as an ash tray for all her cigarettes,
If family didn't stand to abandon,
And farewell friends had just been true,
Then maybe I wouldn't be so fucked up to,

Waiting for brighter weather may be but just a dream,
Maybe nights for all my life people will wake to hear my screams,
Maybe rain is just the calm before the storm,
And floods will come real soon,
Maybe I'll never be safe and warm,
Maybe I'll be snuffed out before I ever know why,
But still I have to ask why do little girls attract such rage and pain with lightening from the sky?