"It'll be fine"
She exclaims loudly, lying through her teeth,
Just another devoid person who doesn't want to care,
And who would?
Who would want to listen to the agonizing complaints of a hormonal teenager?
Teenage problems don't mean a thing,
And neither do razor blade edges,
Depression is just a temporary phase,
She'll grow out of it soon,
I'm sure.

"You'll be grand"
She mutters, another lie shoved down her throat,
Another day of false pretentious concern,
As long as she's quiet,
Then there's my job done.
Who would listen to a young one like her?
She's only sixteen, she doesn't understand,
Its not that important,
And neither are the scars that riddle of beautiful skin.

"She was fine"
She cries, fibbing for her social status,
People who don't want to hear the sobs of the weak.
And who would?
Fitting in means being strong,
Let down your walls, and be sure its checkmate for you,
Because nobody really ever cares,
Not even if its suicide.