Her wallpapered skin
Blends into the wall
She’s on top of the world
But continues to fall

She wishes they’d listen
She’s hoping they’ll see
That those cool poems she writes
Are actually pleas

Cries out for help
That nobody hears
While she sits, confused
She thought it was clear

The teardrops on her pillow,
The cuts on her back
She thought someone would see
How she keeps wearing black

But, no, they don’t see
Or choose to ignore
The fact that she’s just not
Herself anymore