Brooklynn's poem is about pain that nobody else can see, and about the exhaustion of trying to win approval from someone who only takes. The speaker is covered in scars that keep reopening, yet her cries for help go unnoticed. The "you" in the poem is never named, so we're left to guess who it is. Whoever it is, they have taken her thoughts and her words, leaving her without a voice.
The images are all about lack. A half empty bottle of water sits just out of reach, and her throat is falling apart, like a broken porcelain doll. She keeps trying, even crawling on her hands and knees, but it's never enough.
The mood is desperate, bleak, and worn down. The last line hits hardest: all her effort earns her more scars, the same unreachable water, and "a century of silence." The poem leaves us with a sense of loneliness that feels endless.