"Stranger" you called me,
As I walked away,
Ran away from the misery,
Which you delightfully caused.

Then, I didn't protest.
Whatever, I said
Happy to escape.
I ran and ran.

I never looked back,
Walked my road,
With my shoulders straight,
I was the soldier.

One day, my eyes met
The word, stranger
In a solid, musky book.
I laughed till I fell.

I closed the book,
Shoved it in my bag
And continued my journey.
People called me the man.

The time came,
When I got tired of walking,
I sat on a bench in the park
And watched a young couple talking.

"Stranger," he called her,
Watching her walking away.
His face mounted
With guilt and angry resentment.

She turned away
In haste,
Her feet hopping.
She was now liberated.

The young man stood there still,
Trying to light up a cigarette.
But failed miserably
His heavy hands shivered.

I went forward,
lit up the cigarette for him.
"Thank you, stranger,"
I heard him murmur.

And I,
I burst into tears.