Why do you do the things you do*

You ask.

But I'm stuck
on the beat of your words.
One syllable quips
following one another.
And I
STOP
         Pushed aside, you tremble.
My smile doesn't help.
I was a fool to think it ever did,
in circumstances such as these.
But to be fair, I haven't done
anything wrong.
I was only asked why I am...
me.
And to that, I have no answer.
Better to speculate.
Because the heavy lifting
required would be better if
you backed out.
Lest you through your back out.