Why must you have chosen me?
Why do I have all the misfortune and the grief?
Out of all the people on the Earth and sea,
Why, oh why, must you have chosen me?
Why do I have to suffer the ache and the misery?
Why am I struck every night?
Why do I have to sob myself to sleep?
You give her everything. What does she deserve?
She's perfect. Her face, her clothes and her hair.
I'm not even worthy to breathe the same air,
Because I'm desolated. I'm all alone.
No one talks to me. Nobody.
Is it because of my scars?
Is it because of the blend of blood and tears that streak my face?
Is it because I can't even afford to take a proper shower?
As I write this with the one pen I have,
Droplets drench my paper.
Droplets of tears.
You are all I have.
You allow me to feel less heartache.
Doesn't that make you feel good?
Because it makes me feel better.
Please don't leave me.
Oh, dear desolation, why must you have chosen me?