In the sunlit realm where shadows play, The skin stands guard through night and day. Its basal cells, a quiet shield, Hold secrets of a battle concealed.
A pearly bump, a subtle hue, A waxy glint, a lesion new. Flat scars emerge, their tale untold, While vessels gleam like threads of gold.
Through UV rays, the danger grows, A silent threat that no one knows. From tanning beds to sunlit skies, A warning whispers: protect your eyes.
Slow to spread, yet fierce in place, It marks the skin with stubborn grace. Untreated, it invades the core, A patient foe we must implore.
Dermatologists, with steady hand, Reveal the truth, take the stand. With biopsies and careful view, The silent intruder is brought into view.
Excise the threat, with scalpel keen, Or freeze its grip with liquid clean. Layer by layer, precision's art, Mohs Surgery plays its healing part.
For those advanced, the war persists, With targeted drugs and cancerous mists. Yet in prevention lies the key, To shield the skin and keep it free.
Broad-spectrum screens and hats to wear, A daily habit, a life of care. Check your skin, heed its voice, For health resides within your choice.
Through every layer, the tale unfolds, A story of vigilance and hands that hold. The basal cell, though small and still, Echoes the strength of human will.
