You don’t even understand how hurt I am don’t you?

I've tried so many times,

To scream for help,

Right in front of your face,

and even if my screams for help were muffled by the music you played in the kitchen,

My face would've said more than any words could if you had just looked at me,

Even for a second,

But you didn't,

And you carried on with your day,

As if I didn't exist,

Then you would get mad at me,

For not keeping my room clean,

When you should've been focused on what was wrong with me instead,

Because my room was the only place that had ever felt like my home,

And because my devices, that you so much detested, were the only things that made me want to get up in the mornings,

So you shouldn't get mad when all I ever wanted was just a little space.