I have two lines, but cannot write a word. I hold the fashion, but wear no attire. What am I?

You need me to see me, I can be quite pretty; I come in different shades, But no shapes or sizes; What am I?

A slip of paper, fabric, or more, A simple mark to keep your score. I save your spot within a page, A single sign through every age.

Crafted like a metal place, holds fluttering dreams in a tiny space. Confined and yearning to roam, it whispers to the heart, 'Oh my, how I long for home!'

I dance without feet, I whirl without sound. A flick gives me life, Then I spin all around.