In wounds that linger, refusing to heal,
NERDS lurk, their presence concealed.
Each letter a tale of infection's plight,
A poet's verse in the depths of night.
N, for Non-healing, a stubborn foe,
Time's passage brings no sign of woe.
E, Exudate flows, a tainted stream,
Pus-like whispers in a fevered dream.
R, Red friable tissue, a crimson hue,
Telling tales of inflammation true.
D, Debris gathers, a morbid sight,
Foreign whispers in the still of night.
S, the Smell, a foul and potent air,
Bacterial whispers, a silent affair.
In the dance of infection, they sway,
A call to arms, a plea to stay.
But heed these signs, oh tender soul,
For healing's balm shall make thee whole.
With care and wisdom, wounds shall mend,
And NERDS' dark reign shall meet its end.
