"Primum non nocere," a principle profound,

Not rigid law, but wisdom found.

In healing's halls, where choices weigh,

It guides the hand, but doesn't sway.

"ὀφελέειν ἢ μὴ βλάπτειν," a balanced plea,

"To benefit, or harm not," complexity's key.

Not black and white, but shades between,

Where modern medicine's challenges are seen.

The caduceus gleams, oft misunderstood,

While Asclepius' staff stands where healing stood.

Symbols twisted, meanings blurred,

Yet ethical practice remains undeterred.

In sterile rooms where decisions loom,

Doctors and patients dispel the gloom.

They weigh the risks, consider gain,

In partnership, to ease the pain.

Some peddle falsehoods, sweet and bright,

While truth seeks haven in the night.

But evidence-based practice stands tall,

Against deception's siren call.

"Primum nil nocere," evolving still,

Not perfection, but good faith's will.

To strive for best, while harm to shun,

In healing's never-ending run.

In research labs and by bedsides true,

Ethical minds seek what to do.

Through trials tested, with knowledge bright,

They pierce the veil of health's long night.

"To benefit, or harm not," the true decree,

A beacon burning, for all to see.

Not simple maxim, but complex art,

Where science meets the human heart.

With shared trust, respect held high,

Patient and healer together try

To chart a course through health's dark sea,

With ethics as their guiding key.

         "Primum non nocere," oft misapplied,

Not absolute, but a principle to guide.

In Hippocrates' time and modern day,

It's context and intent that hold sway.

The Greek, "ὀφελέειν ἢ μὴ βλάπτειν," rings true,

"To benefit, or at least do no harm," anew.

A nuanced approach, not black and white,

Balancing risks in healing's light.

The caduceus twined, with wings so bright,

A symbol of commerce, not healing's might.

Asclepius' staff, with serpent alone,

The true emblem of medicine, long known.

In modern clinics, where science reigns,

Ethical practice carefully maintains

A balance 'twixt benefit and potential harm,

With patient's values central to this charm.

Open communication, a cornerstone strong,

Where patient and doctor, together belong.

In shared decisions, they navigate

The complex paths that health dictate.

Some may twist ethics for selfish gain,

But true healers strive to ease pain.

With evidence-based practice as their guide,

They stand against misinformation's tide.

"To benefit, or at least do no harm," evolves still,

Not perfection, but good faith's will.

From rigorous study, and trials so keen,

True healing emerges, complex yet clean.

In healing's art, there's no guarantee,

But ethical practice sets conscience free.

With care and skill, and wisdom's light,

We navigate health's day and night.

Πρῶτον μὴ βλάπτειν, a principle misunderstood,

Not black and white, but shades of good.

Where healing's art meets science's light,

And ethical minds must choose what's right.

The caduceus gleams, a symbol misconstrued,

Where commerce and care are often viewed.

But Asclepius' staff, with single snake entwined,

Represents true healing, carefully refined.

In modern halls where choices weigh,

Doctors and patients find their way.

Through risks and benefits, they navigate,

Shared understanding they cultivate.

Some peddle cures with hollow claims,

Exploiting fears for selfish aims.

But true healers, with knowledge sound,

On evidence their practice ground.

"Primum nil nocere," a guide, not chain,

Encouraging thought in health's domain.

Balance sought 'twixt act and pause,

For healing's not without its flaws.

In research labs and by bedsides too,

Ethical minds seek what is true.

Through trials tested, their wisdom grows,

A beacon bright as knowledge flows.

ὀφελέειν ἢ μὴ βλάπτειν, the call remains,

For those who heal, not those who feign.

In partnership with those they treat,

They strive to make care more complete.

          Primum non nocere, a guiding light,

Not rigid rule, but wisdom's sight

ὀφελέειν ἢ μὴ βλάπτειν, in balance true,

Weighing risks and benefits anew.

In halls where healers ply their art,

With science, skill, and caring heart

They navigate the complex maze,

Of modern medicine's intricate ways.

Some twist this creed for selfish gain,

Exploiting fears, causing pain

But true healers, with ethics sound,

Engage with trust,  solid ground.

Caduceus coiled, a symbol pure,

Of commerce now, no longer sure

Asclepius' staff, the truer sign,

Of healing's art, both old and fine.

Shared decisions, patient and physician,

Together they assess, talk with clinician

Of risks and hopes, of fears and dreams,

Charting a course through health's extremes.

In shadowed corners, whispers grow,

Of cures that science doesn't know

But evidence-based practice stands,

Against the lure of charlatan's hands.

Primum non nocere, evolving still,

Not perfection, but good faith's will

To strive for best outcomes always,

While minimising harm's dark haze.

From trials rigorous, knowledge flows,

Not from deceit or cunning shows

The path of healing, nuanced, true,

Leads through care, both old and new.

I dominte my life,

I control my life,

To you I am a slave,

I have no control,

You dominate me,

I hate myself,

I hate you more,

I long for you,

Ache for you,

I beg you to go,

I wish for your absense,

Yet I still miss you,

How can your touch hurt me,

Yet at the same time heal me,

I feel the grip around my neck,

Tendrils coil and tighten,

A gentle squeeze,

My hand shakes,

I have no power,

You have control,

The darkness grows,

Shadows elongate,

My hand steadies,

I hold your coldness in my fingers,

I feel you whispering to my soul,

Screaming at me,

Controlling me,

My eyes are lifeless,

Like a porcelain doll,

I move deliberately,

I move carefully,

I need control,

I need to feel your power,

Metal peels away flesh,

A burning heat from within,

Deliberately slow,

Line after line,

I feel the adrenaline,

The power of the blood flowing,

The intoxicating smell of life,

I want this to never end,

I want control,

I want power,

I want to feel it drain,

More and more flesh is opened,

A familiar metallic tang hangs in the air,

Again and again and again,

Who am I kidding,

I have no control,

I have no power,

I hate myself for loving you,

Im addicted to the idea,

A deadly idea,

How curious am I?

The sheet stained claret,

My arms are a mess,

A curious glance,

A reoccuring thought,

The addiction to a high I cant replicate,

You never forget your first time,

How close you are,

The power to control everything,

At the same time,

Controlling the power within,

There it is again,

Power and control,

The power in between your fingertips,

The control of the action,

A finishing touch,

No control,

Too much power,

A spinning head,

Those lifeless eyes glinting in the shadows,

That last slice,

A final rush of heat,

The calm before the storm,

I have neither,

Power or control.