Flavors, and colors, and texture, and size.
Prescription pharmaceuticals, excess supplies.
Taken with water, eight times a day.
Side effects vary, hard to keep straight.
A pill for my goiter, and one for migraines.
Another for swelling, and varicose veins.
One for high blood pressure, one because I can’t sleep.
One for my prostrate, so I’m able to pee.
This little one here, that’s real hard to see.
I take twice a day, for anxiety.
At CVS, they all know my name.
Blue Cross and Blue Shield, waive my co-pays.
A Molotov mixture of medical means.
Sustaining my health, or so it would seem.
What would happen if I suddenly quit?
Could I reclaim my body from this sideshow regiment?
The doctor keeps adding and adding more pills.
She’d take my Zoloft if she got my drug bills.
Pharmaceutical philanthropy at the swoosh of a pen.
Open up, throw it back, and swallow again.
A medical marvel, squirreling pills is my talent.
My long term prognosis: medicinally challenged.
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And just like that she built the Queendom she always wanted.
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