I Am a Teen With Depression

You say you know me better than anyone else because you're my mother, but for some reason you don't see me falling apart in front of your eyes. Crumbling under the pressure of your standards. Crying myself to sleep at night because of the words, like knives you choose to use. How can you say you know me when you don't even see how my smile has changed and how my eyes don't light up when I talk to you?