In sterile halls where shadows blend, An internist’s duty has no end. A guardian of the heart and veins, With stethoscope, they ease the pains.
The heart they mend, the lungs they clear, Through whispered breaths, they lend an ear. With gentle hands and keenest sight, They bring the darkened back to light.
Diabetes, with its silent tread, They chase away its looming dread. Hypertension’s grip they break, With care, their patients’ lives remake.
Through complex webs of chronic strife, They guide each soul back into life. A diagnosis finely tuned, A remedy by knowledge hewn.
In organs deep where secrets lie, The internist's skill does amplify. From liver's woes to stomach’s ache, They weave the cure for every break.
Yet specialization calls some more, To deeper realms of health’s vast store. Cardiology's pulsing beat, Or gastro’s intricate deceit.
Endocrine whispers they can hear, Adjusting balance, far and near. With every patient, new and old, Their stories of the body told.
So here’s to those who stand the line, In health’s grand play, a role divine. The internist, with knowledge vast, Ensures each heartbeat will outlast.
