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 ...