Meeka's poem is a letter the speaker will probably never send, addressed to a parent who leans on their child instead of the other way round. The speaker is nearly an adult but is already acting as the grown-up at home: calming the parent at night, fighting off their fears, and absorbing their complaints. The parent also seems to seek sympathy by telling others about a daughter's tragedy, and the speaker is left to deal with the fallout.
The feelings here pull in two directions. There is frustration and exhaustion in the repeated pleas to "be an adult," and hurt in the line about never being enough. But the speaker also shows understanding, acknowledging that the parent's past was full of hardship, and ends with love that hasn't gone away. The mood is weary and raw, yet tender. The plain, almost conversational rhyme makes it feel like a private confession, and the final promise to "still hold your hand" turns the poem from complaint into quiet loyalty.