The crown of thoughts that once did sit upon my weary head
is gone, fading gently into the distance
only the impression remains
vague marks of what I used to be
the other much more consequential me

Someone let her out
She slipped away
and never quite came back
although she had a key
each time she went I used to find
she left a bit of me behind

What is left is a badly knitted gift
A thing unravelled
Full of holes is what you get to see
The tattered remnants of the shrinking woman that was me!