It distracts me at times when I long for deceiving glee,

Printed are my name, age; never the fibs,

Trying to raise me up from the lobbies

My ID sways jolly as I go lively,

The sense of satisfaction keeps on reminding me,

To shun from overjoy and never to go crazy,

For this will captivate me from my ID.

When melancholic days pass me by,

This ID hides reluctant and shy,

Its deafening silence strikes the eyes

Of those who see its stupid cry.

This ID also resembles the breeze,

which whispers to my conscience words of dare,

That I may not have all the ease,

Or else I’ll be a vagabond, senseless and snare.

My ID gestures to wherever I go,

It never loses grip, unless I pretend to know,

That I Can always proceed w/out it,

Yet I still end coming back for it.

If ever I grow old, and then would certainly die,

Ill be holding this ID until the beyonds of the sky,

It will purvey me whichever, without reprimand,

So beside God, I shall have a decisive stand.