A Stranger Poem by Rajendra Prasad Meena Jaipur India

I walk where no one knows my name,
roads remember me for a while,
then forget.
I speak to walls,
because walls don't judge.

They listen
and stay silent.
People pass like seasons—
some warm,
some cold,
none stay long enough
to ask who I am.

I carry stories in my pockets,
heavy but unseen.
If I open them,
no one waits to hear.

Sometimes I wonder—
am I a stranger to the world,
or has the world
become a stranger to me?
I stop.

The street moves on.
I remain, a question without an answer.