Poetry

Little Pill

By Anonymous

Oh, little pill, here in my hand;
I wonder how you understand
just what to do or where to go,
to stop the aches that hurt me so.
You work in regions there below,
as down my throat you quickly go;
but how, I wonder, little pill,
how do you know where I am ill?
And, just how do you really know
just where you are supposed to go?
I've got a headache, that is true;
my broken bones need attention, too.
But, how can anything so small,
end my aches in no time at all?
Do you work alone, or do you hire a crew,
to do the good things that you do?
I'm counting on you mighty strong,
to get in there where you belong.
But, don't let me down, and do not shirk,
but do your undercover work.
So, down my throat, be on your way,
and end my aches another day.
Don't take a wrong turn, is my plea;
my next pill doesn't come till after three!