In the depths of flesh and skin,
Where wounds and cuts doth begin,
There lies a substance pure and bright,
That mends and heals with all its might.
Collagen is its name so grand,
A protein strand with a helping hand,
It weaves and knits the skin anew,
With every fiber pure and true.
When injuries come and tear apart,
The fabric of our beating heart,
Collagen rushes to the scene,
To bridge the gap and make it clean.
It forms a scaffold, strong and true,
To guide the cells that do renew,
And with each day that passes by,
The wound begins to heal and dry.
New skin forms, pink and soft,
Where once was red and rough,
And all because of collagen's power,
To heal and mend with every hour.
So let us thank this wondrous thing,
This protein that doth healing bring,
And praise the beauty of its role,
In making wounded bodies whole
