Izzy's poem compares the speaker's life to a piece of paper, something delicate that depends entirely on who is holding it. In the right hands it is safe, but in the wrong ones it can be ripped apart. The speaker is talking to someone who once took care of them, a "keeper," and who then crumpled them up and tossed them away without a second thought.
The mood is hurt and bitter, with a quiet kind of anger underneath. The image of the old weathered building, left alone and neglected "till the very end," adds loneliness to the pain, as if being abandoned slowly wears a person down. The speaker also seems stunned that anyone could do this "and not feel any guilt," and suggests that such people have no soul.
The last line, "And you weren't any different," feels like a flat, tired conclusion. It suggests the speaker has been let down before, and that this betrayal confirmed something they already feared.