The Passport

You keep me hidden

And only take me out when you want an escape

A way to hide, to run, from- I assume- your problems

But you don’t tell me anything.

Many people envy you

That you have me, that you can get me in the first place

They can only dream of having one like me

Allowing them to go to and from uncharted places

Where the heart and mind can escape

Some will never leave their homes

Not because they won’t, but because the can’t

Can’t get their hands on one like me

It’s the privilege of your place

The way of the world

You take me out when something goes wrong

To keep out of trouble

To prove your worthy and not a criminal

I’m your escape key

You hold me dear and show me off

To all your friends to brag about where you’ve been

What you’ve done, what you’ve seen

But I saw nothing.

I saw your back pocket, your room, purse, wallet

And yet you let other people stare at me

Place their marks on me

I am nothing to you, but I’m everything to what you want to do

To be, to see

You want to be the envy of all your friends

And I alone can give you that

But you think nothing of me

I’m just a record keeper of all your excursions and adventures

Some that didn’t end well, some that did

But no one will know save for you and me

And I know you won’t tell anyone about the downsides

Just the special parts, to make you seem just as amazing

And I won’t be able to, because the marks on me

Tell one story, and the fact that I’m stuffed back in your closet

Tells another.

Sterling M.Z.