The catwalk is a stage for the beautiful
Or so they lead us to believe
Though the state of some of those young ones
Makes me sad for them and I grieve.
Even slimmer than a pencil
They would snap
At the drop of a hat,
Yet still they are told they are too rounded
And their chests should be totally flat.
Those poor stick insects are draped in high fashion
Even walking is an enormous feat
And all the time I'm watching them
Wanting to feed them up
On a plate of home-cooked meat!
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