Giving too much, they still complain,
Giving less, they hurt the same.
I thought I said I wouldn't be kind,
Yet friendliness clung, though I tried to hide.
Perhaps it was a shield I wore,
To guard my heart from every sore.
Hurt and pain defined my way,
I planned to cut ties, keep distance at bay.
But could I sever, or was I weak?
Or just too friendly, afraid to speak?