It's not all black and white

This is the story of how I died.

A little girl grew up a little too quickly,
forced by her parent's negligence.
She grew up the adult of the house.
Her needs were never met,
and her feelings were always invalidated.
A little girl grew up hating her own reflection,
for her bullies were all around her.
Men forced themselves on her,
but she never spoke up,
for she was never listened to.
She became a teen filled with anger and sadness.
Started cutting her arms,
and gave up her body,
for that was the only thing men ever wanted from her.
A teen grew up hating her parents and hating her life.
She drank pills hoping for her heart to stop,
but it never did,
so she seeked out everything just to escape it.
The smoking quiets the angery screams in her head,
alcohol numbs the hurt in the heart
and the silver blade calms the soul.
A teen became an angry young adult.
Only ever met with disappointment,
building up an empire of heartache.
He realized that the little girl he grew up to be was in fact,
never a little girl.
He hates himself a little more as the days go by.
Consumed by loneliness as the screams grow louder
and his heart stops beating.
He realizes he gave a little too much of himself,
for he feels empty now.
He is still not listened to,
his feelings invalidated.
And his best friend a little silver blade