12 letters of my name, altogether, I thought,
form my identity.
I meditated upon my name.
My name
ALL IN BLOCK LETTERS
My name
In Small Letters With Initial Capitals
My name
in Times New Roman, Font Size 12
My name
with a Suffix
My name
with a Prefix
My name underwent a series of modulations
and became a farce!

Who am I?
A name!
But even the name
now I meditate upon
had long become a numeric entity.
1/147: the administration verifies the registration,
and confirms my identity;
2492318: the immigration tallies its record,
and verifies my nationality.

My name
refrains from identifying me;
My name
contributes to my vulnerability;
My name
only exhibits my non-existence.

This time, I silently chose
to unwrap the cover of my name
only to see my temporary identities
sink into the oblivion.