Like cracked skin on a hand
Landscaped by ageing
Deserted forgotten land
Skeletons once Beautiful
Nightingales shuffled
Skilled surgeons
Cure disease
Now years of abuse
Wrong decisions
flow through veins
That lack the juice of life
Sandpaper talks mocked
Donors blood dried up
Abandoned hopes
left to die
No one heeded the warnings
A citadel waiting for death
The Health Service has
Collapsed
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