that's something else

If I had it I would use it too.
My name is nothing more than the way someone else calls me,
What I use to own things,
To have an account,
For some to know that I am not from here,
For some to check if I am able to pay on time,
What I decide to modify or not when I enter some blog,
What he repeats when thinking of me in mocked dialogues,
What I use to call my own attention,
What my parents matched perfectly with the rest of the patronized names from the house
Now…

What I am,
That,
Is something else.
And I still wonder what that could be without the frame of my name…
…A scattered pattern in a world wide field?

...will
I
melt
down
as
a
cas
ca
d
e
.
.
.
like water with no vase?