Their arrogance is futile now, as there is no plea left upon my lips; these repeated attacks are also in vain, for there is hardly any life left in my body.

This sher captures that haunting stage of exhaustion where cruelty itself loses its power to hurt. The poet tells the beloved that their haughty anger and relentless strikes are entirely pointless now, as there is no complaint left on the lips and no life left in the body to wound. It speaks to the quiet numbness that follows overwhelming pain—when someone has suffered so deeply that they simply have nothing left to lose.