The sterile room, so cold and bright,
It becomes my stage, a sacred rite.
Steady gloved hands, my tools in place,
I pray for skill, for the Heaven's grace.
For I am the hand that tips the scale,
Between life and death, I will prevail.
With heart full of fear, I will proceed,
To mend what's broken, to tend her need.
I explore her maze of flesh and bone,
With each incision, her fate I own.
Her pulse's a whisper, her breath so frail,
I will save her life, I will not fail.
But the monitor sings a tragic tune.
Her heartbeat's fading, she will die soon.
But with the help of God, she'll survive.
With my skills, I will keep her alive!
I won! The scythe of death was made dull!
Her breathing's back and her heart was full.
This treasured memory in my heart,
I'll keep forever, a work of art.
But Doctor in White, that is a lie!
My mouth was shut and I cannot cry!
Your forgery, your stupidity,
Put me to rest for eternity!
From this silent tomb, my questions soared,
Why did lies prevail, and truth ignored?
Oh God, why'd you let him operate?
You know he's a fraud, he sealed my fate.
With each incision, my torment grows,
I'm silent, immobile, full of woes.
The surgeon's tool, now the scythe of death.
The venturi mask, my final breath.
You are a Doctor in Red, a scarlet stain,
A shame to all, in your hands I'm slain!
Your silence bleeds, a deafening roar.
I seek for Justice, forevermore!
