Wounds on my salt.

Sing me songs of foreign rain,
that falls through-out the night.
Strike me with your back hand,
show me that bright light.

I'd die for you to love me,
I'd let you beat me black and blue.
I'd fight until my days of death,
to prove that I love you.

Speak to me the answers I need,
and you can lie if you must.
Since there's a thin line covering hate,
and a thicker line covering lust.

We've broken the rules
our ancestors once set.
Followed the path
of sin since we met.

But, I'd die for you to love me,
I'd let you beat me black and blue
I'd fight until my days of death
to prove that I love you.

"Cherish the moments you live,
never give up on yourself,"
She repeated that a thousand times,
the maid wiping dust off the shelves.

I've forgotten the tears that I saw her cry.
My father, a liar, forced her to die.
A love in her eyes, just as he is in mine.
But a toy in my fathers; maids shall never shine.

I've missed the point the past few years,
fallen deep in love only to cry tears.
My past still haunts me, though not my fault -
the father of hell poured wounds on my salt.

** Definitely not my best. It seems to go off topic and not quite make sense. But I guess whatever comes out .... comes out. Right?