Jaundice, the yellowing hue unfolds,
A tale of bilirubin, bright and bold.
Through skin and eyes, the pigment shows,
A sign of trouble deep below.
The liver's task, to clear the way,
For bilirubin, every day.
It sends it off, through bile it flows,
Into the stool, where out it goes.
But when the liver’s burden's high,
Or bile ducts narrow, dry, or die,
The pigment stays, it fills the veins,
And jaundice rises, bringing pains.
From cirrhosis, hepatitis’ grip,
Or hemolysis in rapid clip,
Gallstones block the body's stream,
Turning skin a yellow gleam.
Dark urine flows, the stools grow pale,
Fatigue and itching tell the tale.
A sign that something's gone awry,
In blood, or liver, lurking by.
The tests begin, the answers sought,
Bilirubin levels are caught.
The cause revealed, the path made clear,
To heal the jaundice, quell the fear.
Yet jaundice is but nature's sign,
That deeper troubles intertwine.
A yellow shade, a whispered plea,
For care and healing urgently.
