Why me, Lord, when my hands been tired since birth,
When I been fighting demons just to prove my worth,
When every scar I got came from loving too deep,
And the world stayed loud while I cried myself to sleep.
Why me, when I gave all I had to give,
Still they questioned how I choose to live,
Still they whispered like they knew my pain,
But never once stood with me in the rain.
Why me, when my heart beats gold,
But they only see the stories they’ve been told,
When I rise, they stare—when I fall, they cheer,
And I still pray for the same ones who disappear.
Why me? Maybe ‘cause I’m built to feel,
To bleed, to break, and still want to heal.
Maybe God chose me for the war inside,
To show that even broken girls can shine with pride.
So, why me?
Because faith needed a fighter,
Love needed a light,
And pain needed a voice to make wrong things right.
Nov 4, 2025
Nov 4, 2025 at 4:27 AM UTC
Why me, Lord, when my hands been tired since birth,
When I been fighting demons just to prove my worth,
When every scar I got came from loving too deep,
And the world stayed loud while I cried myself to sleep.
Why me, when I gave all I had to give,
Still they questioned how I choose to live,
Still they whispered like they knew my pain,
But never once stood with me in the rain.
Why me, when my heart beats gold,
But they only see the stories they’ve been told,
When I rise, they stare—when I fall, they cheer,
And I still pray for the same ones who disappear.
Why me? Maybe ‘cause I’m built to feel,
To bleed, to break, and still want to heal.
Maybe God chose me for the war inside,
To show that even broken girls can shine with pride.
So, why me?
Because faith needed a fighter,
Love needed a light,
And pain needed a voice to make wrong things right.
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