I am a suitcase.
What I am filled with is up to you.
I feed off of your emotion, your direction,
the way you carry me.

I am a suitcase,
and yes, I am rough around the edges,
I have cracks in my leather and rips in my fabric.
I am old and I am used.
Though I still serve my purpose just fine.

I love to travel, but I don’t know where I am going.
I go where you take me.
I am along for the ride,
and I listen.

I am a suitcase,
and I try to be a leader, but that’s not me.
I know one day I will be on my own.
That scares me.

I follow and I keep your secrets.

I stay quiet and I do what I need to do, what I am told.
I get things done.
I serve a purpose; my purpose.