Covered in hydroxyapatite
Colored in dead white
I feel hollow from inside
Look dead but I’m alive
When I break, I bleed
The blood raises a bridge
Weathered by osteoclasts
Plastered by osteoplasts
Tethered by the callus
Soon I become callous
As stresses fall, I realign
I’m your tibia, I’m your spine
Now I’ve grown thin and old
But my bearer, on to you I still hold…
He is the section editor of Orthopedics in Epomedicine. He searches for and share simpler ways to make complicated medical topics simple. He also loves writing poetry, listening and playing music.
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