I’m not mad, no flames of rage,
No fury penned upon this page.
I gave my heart, I gave my hand,
Yet silence blooms where love should stand.

I’m not mad, but shadows stay,
The wounds of trust don’t fade away.
I carried weight that was not mine,
And called it love, a sacred sign.

I’m not mad, but nights are long,
The echoes steal my tender song.
Ungrateful hearts turned cold, forgot,
The kindness given, the battles fought.

I’m just hurt, a quiet flame,
That flickers still beneath the pain.
For giving all was not in vain,
Though none recall, the strength remains.