I only follow yet I pack alone.
Preparing to venture to the unknown.
Travelling from the true bliss of comfort
to the lonely nostalgia of fear.

I pack the discordant pieces of me,
hoping to maybe find their harmony.
Travelling alone requires no effort,
the opposite true for finding love sheer.

I bring the glasses which help my sad sight
wanting them to shed on courage some light.
Travelling in fear just finds land desert,
needing the warmth of others to stay here.

Warm clothes may suffice for some time unknown.
Though my case may seem rather empty it
remains completely full of cautious hope
to avoid living melancholy dreams.