Tuesdays searching

I am confused
As battered as bruised
There is no hope that takes home
Only salt mixed well in foam
And what spares is that which can escape
Going easy on, of course by mistake
And dreams they do have an end
There’s much morning takes away, than it ever lend
I still manage a smile across that face of cry
Can’t hide much but at least I try
Realize there is nothing that can satisfy the taking
After giving it all they still come Tuesdays searching