Wrong Kind of Treatment

It must be hard he said....
That must make you sad he said.....
I understand he said....
You're wrong.

When you look at me you see a scared puppy in a thunder storm. Cute and adorable.
You treat me like a cut on a finger when my soul is bleeding from thousands of open wounds
You talk to me as if I was called stupid at recess 
When in reality my mind is so full of words i can't even tell whats real. Whats mine.
And I find myself believing lies over truth because they've become too hard to tell apart.
You treat me like I'm curable when I feel like I have stage 4 cancer. 
You treat me like I've asked for help on a math problem when I am begging for something to grasp to get me out of this pit of deadly snakes.
I am not asking for your advice I am asking for attention.
Because if my wounds aren't looked at soon I'm afraid it will be too late.

So please. 
Don't tell me you've seen this before. 
Spare me from your understanding and oh so comforting words like "everything is going to be alright" 
Because at this moment I am still fighting on the battle field trying to survive and right now I see no way out.
No way of getting back to safety. 
You treat me like I'm learning to swim when I've already drowned and I'm waiting for someone to rescue me.