10/15/2025
Gout, a fiery thief in the night,
Whispers of pain in the quiet light.
A sudden storm, a crushing weight,
That comes to call, an uninvited fate.
With swollen joints and crimson hue,
It grips the body, strong and true.
A prince of agony, born from rich indulgence,
A curse of flesh, a cruel recompense.
Oh, how the foot, once light and free,
Is bound in chains, unable to flee.
The gout arrives, unbidden, unkind,
A storm of sharpness, body and mind.
In kitchens filled with meats and wine,
It waits for its moment, biding time.
A single drop of purine too much,
Turns joy to sorrow, pain’s cruel touch.
Yet, in the dawn, the agony wanes,
But not forgotten are the stains.
A reminder to tread with care,
For gout will strike, and none can spare.
