A Cry for Help

The quiet sobbing that I make,
Beneath the duvet of my bed,
Is another sign you chose to ignore,
I wish you would just explore.

A little into this tainted mind,
Of a child who's taken a wrong turn,
But instead you blind yourself to me,
"She's growing up, just let her be."

Yet growing up's not quite the problem,
I'm growing weary, growing weak,
And all you ever have to say,
is "Now then honey, how was your day?"

And do you really care for me?
You see me crumble, piece by piece,
So please, I beg you, help me live,
For I don't have much left to give,

To save myself,
To prevent this fall,
To stop this demon once and for all.