Why do the good feel at fault?

We are not the problem. They are.
We tend to every open wound tirelessly, in return once our backs are turned They reach for handfuls of coarse salt to undo all the hurt we healed.
But it’s ok. We don’t learn. Still we will tend to the oozing abyss as if made by our fault.
Maybe it is.
Maybe it is our fault,
For not seeing the salt.