His suitcase is full. Full of
troubles and sadness and
dreams that never came true,
emotions he buried
deep down at the bottom.
They look
organized at the top, neatly folded into squares,
but everything below it is jumbled,
out of control, packed tightly where no one can see.

His suitcase is heavy. He lugs it through
the airport of life, unable to let go as it fills up with
more and more. And it's too much to carry, but there's
nowhere to sit down and
take a break, and the zipper is stuck:
no way to let those feelings
erupt out into the world.

His suitcase is tattered from too much use, too much
stuffing it with the things he's hiding. He watches
little kids running
across the building, rolling tiny suitcases with
sparkles and light-up wheels behind them with glee.
So light. So easy.
He aches with the load, too much, too much,