In all your wounds, I’ll pour salt.
Oh but then, would everything still be my fault?
You say you’re tired, you can’t do this anymore.
Well why don’t you go out, and find yourself a *****
Obviously I don’t please you, I’m guessing I never did.
Now all that’s left are our memories, and those I’m trying to rid.
You once told me I was your everything, what ever happened to that?
Since there’s no more here to feel, it’s these scars I’ll peck at.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 7:21 PM UTC
In all your wounds, I’ll pour salt.
Oh but then, would everything still be my fault?
You say you’re tired, you can’t do this anymore.
Well why don’t you go out, and find yourself a *****
Obviously I don’t please you, I’m guessing I never did.
Now all that’s left are our memories, and those I’m trying to rid.
You once told me I was your everything, what ever happened to that?
Since there’s no more here to feel, it’s these scars I’ll peck at.
Request permission to use this poem