The skin, a fortress strong and fair, A guardian of life with tender care. It shields from harm, it breathes with ease, Regulates warmth, like gentle breeze.
But when it fails, the walls break down, A once-safe haven now wears a frown. Acute skin failure, a silent thief, Strips the body’s vital relief.
Burns that blaze with searing might, Stevens-Johnson’s cruel bite. Blisters form, the skin withdraws, Leaving open wounds, gaping flaws.
Pressure ulcers, deep and wide, Mark the places where strength has died. Infection spreads, like a creeping vine, Necrotizing tissue, crossing lines.
Trauma, wounds that tear and split, Reveal the fragility within it. When sepsis strikes, or organs fail, The skin too falters, turning pale.
A multidisciplinary hand must guide, To heal the wounds and turn the tide. Restoring the balance, sealing the skin, Preventing infection from getting in.
A race against time, a fight to restore, The skin’s lost strength, its vital core. In every cell, in every pore, We seek to heal, to protect once more.
