The speaker describes a habit of endless giving, and the poem makes clear it has become a trap rather than a virtue. She hands over pieces of her youth, even counting out 2555 days (which works out to seven years), and she does it again and again, as the repeated "i give and i give" suggests. Yet nobody sees the damage. The cracks, cuts and "carved out flesh" are hidden, while her heart burns inside "fiery chains."
What she feels is a tangle of love, exhaustion and quiet resentment. She admits that her giving is partly "selfish taking," as if she needs to be needed. She says she never learned to love without losing herself, and the sacrifice was "never asked for, never wanted." The poem hints that she is trying to repair losses from a past she didn't deserve.
The mood is heavy, urgent and pressured, with lines that rush on without rest. The ending softens it slightly: a small, hesitant hope that she might one day learn "to finally live."