I\u2019ve naught but skin stretched over bone
And that then draped in lace;
Poise maintained, ethereal tone\u2014
Both writ upon my face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I must admit, to my chagrin
The poets got it right:
It\u2019s lovely, yes, the pallid thin
That full describes my plight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I do appear in some sense clear
Meant to apotheose,
This lovely, pure, and dying dear
Looks like a tragic rose<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Yet coughing still in cambric lace
Into its warp and weft
The tragic, lovely, bleeding girl
Holds to what she has left<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I\u2019ve naught but skin stretched over boneAnd that then draped…<\/p>\n