9/12/25

in a hospital where reason reigns,

sharp minds and hearts bearing stains,

there was this man, eyes like a storm.

he healed through pain, but defied all norms.

and trailing close in a silent state,

there was the man's prodigy, Dr. Robert Chase.

who wore his scrubs, played his part,

all while bearing a war within his heart.

the man had limped through his scars,

with nothing but his pills and mental bars.

two fractured hearts in grown disguise,

a matching grief behind their eyes.

the same man mocked the world, refusing it's grace,

as Chase simply smiled to hide his place.

a bond of thorns, not built but born.

born from shared disdain and hearts that'd been torn.

and when whispers spread and tempers shout,

filling the whole air with doubt,

there wasn't really anyone else's voice.

except Chase's, who mainly stood by that man's choice.

and once the time to run had come,

to leave the shell and escape the drum,

Chase told a peer, like a cold hymn,

"I need to get away from House, and everything that reminds me of him."

but truth pursued, a cruel refrain,

for blood and habit, they tend to leave stains.

the answer struck like a needle piercing skin,

"You're going to get away from him, by turning into him?"

two men failed to play their parts,

stitching their wounds through counterpart.

and in Chase's mind, one memory stung like a bee,

"Why would I want you to be like me?"