A tiny lump upon the lid,
A chalazion quiet in its bid,
To swell without a hint of pain,
A blocked gland is the cause, so plain.
No stinging ache, no sharp distress,
Just swelling from the oil’s excess,
It forms a bump that lingers there,
A cyst-like shape beyond repair.
Unlike a stye, with painful sting,
This lump is calm, no urgent ring.
But days and weeks, it might remain,
And vision blurred could be the strain.
A compress warm, a healing touch,
Can help the swelling drain as such.
With patience, it may fade away,
Yet some persist, refusing sway.
When stubborn bumps refuse to shrink,
A doctor’s hand may pause to think—
A steroid shot, or careful blade,
Might clear the path this gland has made.
Though often mild, this swelling small,
Can rise and press against the eyeball.
But fear not, for with time it goes,
The chalazion’s quiet close.
