Upon the face, the nerve does weave, A silent thread where senses cleave. However, suddenly, the storm may rise, Sharp shocks descend, and comfort dies.
First comes the jolt, like lightning's sting, Next, a wave that pain does bring. Then a simple breeze, or words that flow, Trigger torrents of pain's echo.
While the forehead feels the searing fire, And the cheek, too, bears the sharp wire, Meanwhile, the jaw trembles, yet still, As shocks cascade and break the will.
Because of vessels that tightly press, The nerve cries out under such stress. Similarly, in MS, the sheath wears thin, And chaos unfolds deep within.
Moreover, tumors or trauma can play a part, Twisting the nerve and breaking the heart. Yet, at times, the cause is unknown, And sufferers feel entirely alone.
Although relief is sought with fervent aim, Medications try to calm the flame. Furthermore, surgery may cut or freeze, Bringing reprieve, though not with ease.
Indeed, this pain shapes daily life, With every action fraught with strife. Thus, treatment brings a glimmer of peace, So that from pain, they might release.
Finally, we learn from the nerve’s dire tale, That through research and care, we must prevail. Step by step, we lessen the weight, Until the face no longer aches with fate.
