In blood, in urine, or tissue’s trace,
A marker lurks, a silent chase.
A whisper hinting of unseen strife,
A shadow cast upon a life.
Cancer’s stealthy hand may sow,
Markers rising, subtle, slow.
Produced by cells, or body’s plea,
Signs of battles, unseen debris.
They serve as guides, a wary eye,
In screening’s realm, they testify.
Diagnosis drawn from their array,
Mapping paths where cancers stray.
PSA for prostate, CA-125’s call,
Markers naming cancers all.
CA 19-9, pancreatic plight,
CEA for colorectal’s fight.
Yet caution sings a somber note,
For markers high don’t always denote
A cancer’s grip, a certain claim,
For other ills may share the blame.
They dance with doubt, a cautious waltz,
In treatment’s realm, where hope exalts.
Prognosis painted with their hue,
Predicting paths we must pursue.
Tumor markers, a whispered tale,
In their rise, a story frail.
But woven in their delicate thread,
A hope that guides where fears once tread.
