In the chambers of the heart, a silent storm brews,
Where inflammation whispers, a tale to peruse.
Myocarditis, it's called, a name to fear,
Affecting the muscle, where life beats sincere.
Viruses lurk, like shadows unseen,
Enterovirus, adenovirus, in the heart's ravine.
Parvovirus whispers, a silent assailant,
Inflammatory whispers, relentless and patient.
Bacterial armies march, invading the fort,
Medications, toxins, their presence distort.
Autoimmune whispers, a misguided war,
The heart, once sturdy, now weakened to its core.
Chest pain echoes, a haunting refrain,
Shortness of breath, a relentless strain.
Fatigue weighs heavy, like burdens untold,
Palpitations dance, a tale of hearts' hold.
In the depths of despair, hope still resides,
For some, resolution, where healing abides.
Yet others, ensnared, in complications dire,
Heart failure's grip, like a funeral pyre.
Arrhythmias dance, in erratic sway,
Sudden cardiac death, a shadowy display.
But amidst the despair, a beacon shines bright,
Treatment's embrace, to battle the night.
Supportive care, a comforting hand,
Antiviral warriors, a determined band.
Immunosuppressive whispers, calming the storm,
Medications to soothe, in their gentle form.
Myocarditis, a tale of the heart's plight,
Where inflammation reigns, in the still of the night.
Yet in the midst of the darkness, hope finds its way,
A symphony of healing, in the light of the day.
