Saline Salt Poem by Mark Heathcote

If tears were made up of only saline salt
I wouldn't cry a drop more.
Because I've cried enough and felt enough,  
enough pain to want to cry no more. 
But life has more pain than joy.
So throw away all your churlish toys.
Because as soon as tomorrow comes,
with wrinkled old age and sorrows
by the bucketful stored. You will be there again.
Swashbuckling with your blunted swords 
claiming everything is yours.
Even those raw red eyes with saline tears 
you cried out long before you knew it.
What's being stored for you?
And only you and your nearest and dearest.