I capture emotion without a single word, I speak in colors and shapes, though I never am heard. I live in a frame or dance on a stage, Born from the mind, I can inspire or enrage. What am I?

I can be heard in a march, but I cannot be heard in the silence or still. You listen to me for sick beats.

I can be filled with socks and snacks, books and knick knacks. My body is weaved but holding water is hard to be achieved. What Am I?

I am many universes that fit in the hand of children and adults. Though I come in different shapes, I am united by the same colorful language.

I have hands but never hold, I chase the young, abandon old. I’m measured, lost, and even killed, Yet by me, all lives are filled.