BestPromptFinderRewrite the poem so that it fits the following pattern: Ababcdcd What my body knows is not a lie it's not a lie I tell you it is not it's nothing short of truth and nothing larger my past lodges in my marrow and if I wanted a transplant There'd be no match Others' sorrows dwarf my petty traumas still these bones are mine when they creak when they moan when they whine there's only one thing I can claim these bones are mine I tell you they are mine and kind to abandon no thing that makes this pulse no one but me.Find similar in the app →