The strong wind will not blow away
the heaps that were silently piled after each other
– of insults and pain.
Throughout these years when I was silent,
the strong wind swirled dust across my face,
and I was hit with the whip-like branches.
And how can I forget when left alone,
and they like kings incensed while on their throne.
Old clothes I had to wear for many years.
My crying only heard if walls had ears.
When thrown out of the house like a wild dog,
and left outside alone in cold and fog.
I know it’s hard but can’t forget the pain.
Their insults fell upon me like the rain.