[Cadaverous Pallor]

There's a layer under my skin
a wrapping rapping underneath
an indentation percolation
a boundary, a crackling sheath

Keeping out and keeping in
flexing bending strapping down
sizzles in front of any gaze
no place but mine inside this gown

Is it a new or aged prize?
Cured and stored and cut to size?
Taught loyalty and fed to burst
when it's good it's at its worst

Do I love its cursed embrace?
How it obscures my pointed face?
Yet it projects a haunted grace
Perhaps my visage I'll replace