Amidst the pain, a wound so deep,
In legs, where secrets darkly keep,
A chronic tale of struggle told,
In verses of flesh and blood, unfold.
Venous streams, once swift and sure,
Now weave a tale so insecure,
Their insufficiency takes its toll,
As ulcers form, a wounded soul.
Arterial highways, once wide and free,
Now narrowed, blocked, in agony,
Poor circulation, a cruel twist,
Leaves tissue damaged and amiss.
Diabetic foot, a silent foe,
Steals the healing's radiant glow,
Neuropathy's cold, numbing touch,
Extends its grasp, it hurts so much.
Pressure sores, like silent spies,
In hidden realms where darkness lies,
Can find a home on legs at rest,
A painful burden, an unwelcome guest.
In realms of trauma and disease,
Where pain and suffering never cease,
Leg ulcers strike with vicious might,
A call for help, a plea for light.
With care and treatments manifold,
The wounded leg, the story's told,
In dressings, therapies, and more,
Hope rises from a wounded core.
Through doctors' wisdom, nurses' grace,
These chronic wounds we can embrace,
With healing hands and science's art,
We'll mend the leg and soothe the heart.
