A sterile room, a quiet fear,
A heavy diagnosis drawn.
The fight for life is starting here,
Before the shadows yield to dawn.
The IV drips a steady hope,
To hold the growing storm at bay,
While numbers stretch the weary rope
That buys another precious day.
For every cell we strive to mend,
A ledger counts the steps we take—
A heavy toll we must expend
For every morning we awake.
Yet through the balance sheets and pain,
The spirit stands against the night,
Beyond the loss, beyond the strain,
To hold the precious light.
