Analysis of I on I

Was the voice still mine?
Was I in the last photo?
Did I take pride in being an accomplice!
Every song of mine was to be sung.
You saw them leaving my sentence,
Escaping my lips,
A strong gulp could make a heart attack.
Heart was there, ain’t it?
So, I only could be a fugitive, a grumbler, a hermit, a curator of my very own existence.
I had to live it all,
Live all of them.
You just watched and blinked away the last time I was alive,
You breathe every time like I am the cold breeze gone with your winter.
How long would it take you to be a flawless witness!
How many of them would I have to live?