Confusion

A little background here. This is a poem, one of my first written a couple years ago, that I am rather loath to share but I will anyways. Open to interperetation, it was written in a moment of what one would call severe depression.

To be seen.
My eyes are closed,
Yet they remain open.
They cry for you, they bleed for you,
They beg for you.
They want you, as I do,
My friend, my enemy.

You ignore my eyes, my searching eyes.
They beg, they plead, but you ignore.
I know, I'm not perfect, nor is the rainbow,
So please, I will be seen.