a prophet warned me a long time ago;

people will come to your home and insult you,

they will never care what others say or,

how you feel about their abusive behaviours,

i looked at him stunned,

tears started falling from my eyes.

why me?

i asked between sobs.

i shook my head and walked away,

all of that is happening,

promiscuous girls call me names--

for the fun of it.

i am not what they think i am,

i tried unsuccessfully to drum that;

into their weak brains but hey,

all what come out of their mouths is--

warm air out of cold hearts.