In the chamber deep within, where sound is born, A fragile drum, so thin, now torn. Once whole, it hummed with life’s sweet song, Now pierced, it suffers, something wrong.
By infection’s force or trauma’s hand, Or pressure from a distant land, A tiny tear, a sudden split, The world grows quiet, bit by bit.
Sharp pain echoes in the hollow ear, A sudden loss, a rising fear. The fluid flows, a silent tear, As ringing whispers what we hear.
Yet time can mend this fragile skin, A drum once torn can play again. With care and patience, it may heal, Or by the surgeon’s hand, it will.
Guard it well, this precious sound, For in its heart, our world is found. Through healing’s path, let silence clear, Till once again, we truly hear.
