Every day on the tube we experience all kinds of advertisements for medication and I usually mute the tube after a number of showings.  I ran across this poem which certainly mirrors any kind of medication which I thought you might appreciate.  Medicine is great when you need it; but, it always baffled me too.

The name of the poem is:  Analyzing Myself

A row of bottles on my shelf –  Caused me to analyze my self.  

One yellow pill I have to pop – Goes to my heart, so it won’t stop.  

A little white one that I take – Goes to my hands so they won’t shake.

The blue ones that I use a lot – Tell me I’m happy when I’m not.  

The purple pill goes to my brain – And tells me that I have no pain.  

The pink capsules tell me not to wheeze – Or cough or choke or even sneeze.

The red ones, smallest of them all – Go to my blood so I won’t fall.

The orange ones, very big and bright – Prevent my leg cramps in the night.  

Such an array of brilliant pills – Helping to cure all kinds of ills.  

But what I’d really like to know – Is what tells each one where to go?

Author Unknown.

kommonsentsjane