Why me, I ask, when all I gave was pure,
A heart laid bare, yet none could reassure.
I gave my all, each piece, each trembling breath,
But still, I suffer, haunted by love's death.

Why me, when kindness poured from every vein,
A soul so willing to endure the pain.
Yet every hand I trusted turned to stone,
And every word I spoke, I stood alone.

I never thought of vengeance, never sought
To make them feel the wounds that they had wrought.
But daily, I am torn by deeper scars,
My heart shattered beneath unseen, cruel bars.

Why me, I plead, as tears fall like the rain,
Each drop a question, echoing my pain.
I gave and gave, with nothing left to claim,
And still, I burn within this endless flame.

Do I deserve this torment, this cruel tide?
This endless ache I cannot seem to hide?
Each day, a new betrayal cuts so deep,
And in the silence, I can barely sleep.

Why me, I ask, as I stand broken still,
A heart that gave, yet never had its fill.
I long for answers, yet none come, no peace,
Just endless hurt that will never cease.