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

What do you call an alligator in a vest?

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

I travel quickly, often loud, especially when shared with crowds. Some are informed, some less so too, yet nearly everyone has a few.

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!'