Pills lined up in bottles, clear as dawn, A quiet fight in the light of morn, No sterile chair or hospital hum, But battles fought where loved ones come.
Each capsule holds a potent fight, A thread of hope, a spark of light, Swallowed down in silence deep, Promises made and vows to keep.
At home, a patient takes the reign, Counting doses like drops of rain, A clock’s tick the metronome, In this quiet war they call their own.
Yet shadows fall in patient’s path, As side effects unveil their wrath, Fatigue and nausea, uninvited guests, A private test, a soul’s true quest.
Compliance binds like unseen chains, With careful steps to counter pain, A regimen strict as any law, Each dose a shield, each sip a draw.
Insurance papers stack like walls, Finances rise, budgets fall, Costs entwined with hope’s clear line, For peace to heal, one day at a time.
But in each pill, a power found, A way to heal, a path unbound, And though the journey wears its scars, The strength remains like endless stars.
So with courage found in quiet ways, Patients fight through nights and days, At home, in strength, they take their stand, With pills of hope placed in their hand.
