A row of bottles on my shelf
caused me to quickly analyze myself.
One yellow pill I have to pop
so my mind won't completely stop.
A little white one that I take
goes to my back so it won't ache.
The grey ones that I use a lot
say I'm happy when I'm not.
The purple pill goes to my brain
and tells me that I have no pain.
Another pill tells me not to wheeze
or cough or choke or even sneeze.
The blue one, smallest of them all,
goes to my heart so I won't stall.
The orange one, very big and bright,
prevents my leg cramps in the night.
I have an array of brilliant pills
helping me treat all kinds of ills.
But what I'd really like to discover
is why I’ve aged and can’t recover!