She made for me a mantle
I wore it for a while.
Made of lying prattle
And blaming; infantile.
The thing had many hoods
One for every head
She made out of my moods
And idle things I’d said
Small where I am bigger
And big where I am small
Hard for me to figure
How she thought it fit at all.
It took a while to see
It was not meant for me
It’s monstrous shape designed
To comfort her mad mind.