When the worlds teeth clamp too deep,
I retreat to my safe haven,
This fabric hovel,
Threads and strands as seedy as my form,
A veil against human elements,
It keeps me safe and secure,
A suit of tattered armour,
Acquired at the thrift store,

Clad in plum tabard,
I’m clear of any prying eyes,
Overzealous words,
And clasping hands,
It’s a simple thing,
To feel impervious,
But no force in this world can grant it,
Save for this haven of a textile.

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