Haiku From a Child

I was cleaning out some of my old possessions from my parent's house today and I found the following poem. I typed this in the seventh grade when I we were forced to do so by our English teacher. I have no clue as to why a twelve year old would right about this but I can take a huge guess.

As a child I can say that I don't think I was that spectacular. I possessed the love of everything criminal justice that I still have now, but I pretty grew up surrounded by chaos. My parents, when they weren't abusing us, tended to focus on the oldest of my two younger brothers (there were three children total, me being the oldest and the only girl). All of their attentions earned them a convicted felon, DUI having, drug addict of a kid. Time well spent, shall we say?

Now that I'm done mocking my parents for their lackluster parenting skills, here's the poem I am talking about:

I can see the shadows forming on the wall,
I see them carve strange shapes into the floorboards,
I hear a car traveling down the street,
I wonder if there is anyone in there for me.

I know in the back of my mind that there is not,
I cry to the world for someone to know me.
I want someone to care for me,
I want them to recognize me.
I then again only hear the indefinite silence.
I know that my it will be my only companion for the oncoming night.

I think when I wrote it I was thinking about the poem "Annabelle Lee" by Edgar Allen Poe. Like what would the girl in the poem think if she was trapped in a grave, having died so young?

Or maybe, on some other level, it was how I felt at the time.