The Strong Survivors

A fake smile,
so hurt for a long while.
Blades slit to wrists,
how could it turn into this?
Blood running down,
tears falling around.
Their world is falling apart,
but they wouldn't notice or care.
How dare they insult a child so young,
to where they slit their own skin.
Even their kin insults them,
soon they isolate themselves,
they come to hate themselves more and more.
One cut soon turns into one hundred, and each scar or cut holds an unknown fight,
trying to find out what's right.
Each tear holds so much hurt,
and they feel like such dirt.
They're surviving what we call society.