If only these city streets knew how frightening they really are,

Little girls who look like me would only see that they are stars.

If the things that hurt the most would only heal. 
Believe me, we’d welcome the scars.
& Then maybe we’d hesitate to jump into the back seats of cars.

If only the boys we loved would show their intentions with bouquets of flowers,
Then we, as women, would realize that we really do have powers.

If these same boys would feel more obligated to brag about how they can talk for hours,
Then our sons would grow up to be men, rather than fatherless cowards.

Somewhere in the cracks of old cement, lay the ‘if‘s that plague this world our ours.

As the time goes by.
We grow strong on poorly assembled pride.
Never wonder the ‘why‘s
Push questions to the side.
Force our tears to hide.

Until we fall as hard as towers.