Spilt Milk, Spill More Poem by Paula Lubbe

I wonder why things work out this way
Persistent, I keep writing to try and explain
Though my hands ache and cramp up from all the pain
But I’ll keep writing and still not complain

I think and ponder, but can’t get it right
All the answers I know, have dropped from my sight
I pray and I hope and to God I’d plead
Maybe I’ll get through this one more night

Though these cynical thoughts swerve through my head
I refuse to give up, I’d rather end up dead
I let out my frustration through the pillow on my bed
Wondering what it is I shouldn’t have said

Spilt milk, spill more, it’s still in the past
I can’t linger over something that’s already lost
I wondered and stopped, I tried to forget it fast
Because there’s still hope left in this fleshy cast