When Do I?

Why does the sun have the right to rise, when you will never rise again? Why does the wind have the right to whisper, when it can no longer carry your words? Why do the stars have a right to shine, when their brightest has gone out for good? Why do the seasons have a right to change, when you're not there to count them along? Why does the world have a right to spin, when you will never dance again? Why does it all have to end, just when I started to be able to live again? When will I get the chance to shine, instead of always getting left behind? When do I? When do I?