Cry Over Spilled Milk

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They say, "Don't cry over spilled milk,"
But sometimes, it's not that simple.
A shattered glass, a tiny mess,
Still leaves behind a heart to confess.

It's not the milk, it's what it means—
The little things that slip between
The cracks of life, the moments lost,
The dreams abandoned, and the cost.

I know it's gone, can't bring it back,
But some things spill, and leave a track.
A stain that lingers, deep and wide,
A reminder of what we tried to hide.

It's never just the mess on the floor,
It's all the feelings from before.
The weight of moments, heavy and still,
That make us cry over the smallest spill.

But maybe tears help wash it away,
The broken things we can't repay.
And in those tears, we might just find,
A little grace, a little time.

So I'll cry over spilled milk today,
And then I'll let it fade away.
Because sometimes, it's okay to feel—
To let the small things help us heal.

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