Answer:
I think you live beneath a roof that is upheld by me; I think you seldom walk abroad but my fair form you see; I close you in on every side you very dwelling pave and probably I'll go with you At last into the grave.
I have a name written on me, but it isnβt my name. Men plant me, but I never grow. They look at me and see their future, rotting in my bloom.
I'm really blue but when you see me I'm red. You don't see me too often. I'm there for you if you're hurt.
I am rarely touched but often held and if you are smart you'll use me well.
What loses its head in the morning but gets it back at night?
Why was the cook arrested?