Crying over spilled milk

"Young blood, sit down, let me tell you somethin'.

Life ain't fair, but it ain't supposed to be.

You see the cracks in these walls? They got stories,

Same as the scars on your knuckles. Listen close."

Stapleton bricks, red like my mother’s swollen eyes,

Rent late again, welfare checks vaporized.

Roaches in the cereal, milk in a chipped glass,

Hunger made the clock tick slower, time didn’t pass.

No father figure, just shadows in the hallway,

Dreams crushed under feet like broken ashtrays.

Used to cry over spilled milk, couldn’t afford the waste,

Every crumb a treasure in that cold, bitter taste.

Crying over spilled milk, life ain't sweet,

Roaches crawling where the floorboards meet.

Mama’s tears falling, washing pain down the sink,

Crying over spilled milk, made me stop to think.

Hustlers on the block, they wore dreams on their sleeves,

Gold chains shining, but they lived to deceive.

Mama prayed over candles, rosary in her palm,

While I ran through the chaos, dodging every bomb.

No lunch money, just a stomach that groaned,

The echo in my ribs felt colder than home.

I used to wish for answers, found ‘em in the grime,

The projects built a poet, syllables from crime.

Elder said, “Son, don’t let this place define you.”

But it’s hard when the walls whisper what’s behind you.

Crying over spilled milk, life ain't sweet,

Roaches crawling where the floorboards meet.

Mama’s tears falling, washing pain down the sink,

Crying over spilled milk, made me stop to think.