In vessels small, where blood once flowed,
A silent storm begins to grow,
Calcium weaves its hardened thread,
Through fragile tissues where it's led.
A battle in the skin takes place,
With pain etched deep on every face,
Purple, black, the patches bloom,
A signal of impending doom.
The ulcers open, raw and sore,
A gateway to infections' door,
Where every touch, a dagger's thrust,
Turns skin to ash and bones to dust.
End-stage kidneys call their toll,
On bodies once so full and whole,
Dialysis hums its heavy tune,
But cannot stave the creeping gloom.
In bloodstream thick, the levels rise,
Of phosphate clouds in sullen skies,
Vascular walls, once smooth and fine,
Now calcified, their sharp decline.
The risks that linger in the air—
Obesity, diabetes' snare,
Warfarin whispers in the vein,
As calcium stakes its ruthless claim.
Yet through the dark, they search for light,
A team of healers in the fight,
With wounds to tend, with care to give,
To help the ailing patient live.
Though treatments struggle, hope remains,
Amidst the loss, amidst the pains,
For every wound, a prayer to seal,
That time may offer space to heal.
