What would a bullet say on its way to an innocent boy’s skull somewhere in the world where it can triumph and conquer over man?

a memory flashes here and there,

his family on a wall lined up and killed

like lambs no one did understand

what their blood for, was spilled,

but I doubt the boy still recollects;

Oh no! I know what I’m here for—

I saw the purpose in his small brain—

like all these soldiers who died in vain,

the boy’s mind was thinking of but one thing—

like all of us, the boy was only playing a game.

Identity is collection of poems about who we are and what we might find if we really look inside and mean to learn and face whatever we find.