In cells that thrive and grow so bold, Lies a tale of genes, both young and old. They guide the way that life takes form, In balance kept, the usual norm.
But sometimes fate, with twisted might, Turns a gene from wrong to right. An oncogene, once calm and pure, Begins to change, no longer sure.
Mutated now, it leads astray, A cell that grows without delay. Unchecked, unbound, it multiplies, A rebel force, it never dies.
HER2, RAS, and MYC arise, As silent whispers, no disguise. Their altered paths ignite the flame, And cancer grows without a name.
Radiation, toxins near, Or viruses, they all appear. A trigger here, a spark begun, The oncogene's dark race is run.
But hope remains, in science's hands, With therapies, we make our stands. Precision leads the healing way, To target genes and end the fray.
In every cell, a story told, Of life and death, of young and old. The oncogene, a warning bright, In darkness now, we seek the light.
