The harsh light shines on the luminaries in the ring
Fighting, arguing about you
“Echo it, no don’t!”
“Close it”
“Close it always”
“Close it sometimes”
“(Almost) Never close it”
Waving RCTs – their clever acronyms
Easier to remember than the trial design
Medications wrestling one another
The king, indomethacin now exiled,
Dethroned by ibuprofen, paracetamol
And the shiny new toys
Devices to plug, close, seal you off
They may avoid cutting open a tiny chest
But are they really needed?
Ringside are the clinicians (there I am!)
Our faces swinging with each new twist
As if watching Serena and Venus
In the back of the room, in the dark seats, are the parents
When the winner is declared (2030? 2040? Later?)
And the answers are known
And Rocky is handed the championship belt
We can turn on all the lights for the parents
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