Why are your eyes so empty and still? 
Why are the lamps put out and without their usual twinkle?

My identity card: A Reverie

In the side pockets of my worn out old purse; 
found I, an old Identity card of mine.
I saw an old me staring blankly into my face. 
I barely know her now, 

She, who was once me; a ghost, of my past. A past, that was my present only a few years back. My identity has changed; I am no longer what it says I am.

It has become a tomb now; My old identity card. A tomb, upon which is marked my date of birth and also the date on which an Identity of mine died a silent death. A Eulogy of beautiful memories visible to none; but me, is marked upon it. I wiped it of its dirt, the memorial of what I once was And put it back in my worn out old purse. I know it is safe there ...