To my... (part one)

To my parents whom never cared Apparently even something as minor as a mental breakdown is too inappropriate for your delicate sensibilities Or maybe it's just my inability to read the situations Maybe it's my instabilities, constantly dragging you down But why didn't you care? Why couldn't you see? Why can't you read between the lines for once in your life?! Is it that hard to see? Have I bottled up my emotions too well? Am I meant to swallow it down, even though my mouth is too full? Everything is too something Too painful, too tired, too bored, too much, too soon... Or it isn't enough Not stimulated, not happy, not noticing Do I need to spell out the obvious? Lately I've been dropping hints because I'm too tired of this game Teetering between life and death But here's the thing, I love it I crave it, and I live for it A masochistic pleasures, for sure But what's the problem with that? Are you gonna send me to a therapist yet? Decided yourself, no consent on my part first? I shouldn't be able to spit this up in fifty seconds I'm only young, and I already know that How much more sick and twisted could this get? I can hardly deal with it anymore If I had a scar, or a bruise, would you believe my pain is real?