Everyone around the speaker is angry, crying, pointing fingers, and the speaker keeps asking the same thing: "What did I do?" The question comes back at the end of each stanza like a door that won't stay shut. It's a poem about being blamed without ever being told why.
What stands out is how hard the speaker tries. They stay silent, help, nod along, then run, leave, and finally accept the blame. These are opposite strategies, quiet and active, staying and fleeing, and none of them changes anything. The answer, "Nothing," sits alone on its own line, flat and final.
The mood is tired and bewildered, with a growing helplessness. The last line shifts from "What did I do?" to "What did I do wrong?", which suggests the speaker has started to believe they must be at fault, even without evidence. The short, repetitive lines make it feel like a thought looping in someone's head.