Under lock and key I carry value
My hinges are closed shut to shelter and comfort my innermost treasure
walls and doors claw my stainless steel exterior to peel away to my deepest core
but for years I have remained the same. But worn.
my screws are lose, I'm ripped from the bottom, and my clammy grip is no longer able to bear the weight.
Some day I may not have a handle, but I can still be carried through as a groom carries his wife to their honeymoon
Still I have remained the same. but change appearance.
I am a collage of tattoos that scar every place I've stayed, every floor I've touched.
often times I remain stationary tugged by a wagon  
rocks evoke earthquakes that make me stumble and gravity has a way of pushing and pulling me in all directions.
As years progress I look different than before, almost like a stranger
but under lock and key I carry value
I have remained the same.