In the depths of our stomachs, a storm rages,
A fiery surge of acid reflux, relentless and contagious.
Burning and churning, it brings us pain,
Leaving us no place to hide, no hope to regain.
The fragile lining of our esophagus quakes and bends,
Under the relentless assault, its strength it spends.
A molten flood rises, engulfing our throats with heat,
In quiet desperation, for relief we entreat.
Hydrochloric acid, a potion meant for digestion’s aid,
Turns into a foe, a force to be frayed.
The faulty guard, the lower sphincter, betrays with a sigh,
We raise our battle cry as the heartburn draws nigh.
Armed with antacids and PPIs, we stand tall,
Facing the crimson enemy, we shall not fall.
Through diet, rest, and medication, we fight with might,
The grip of heartburn fading, soon out of sight.
Unified in our struggle, our voices united and strong,
A chorus of the acid-weary, singing our song.
The battle is real, this gastric war will not prevail,
We’ll conquer acid reflux, and tell our tale.
Raise a glass of cool water, calm and serene,
To extinguish the flames, and keep our spirits keen.
Together we’ll rise above, spirits soaring high,
Against the acid reflux storm, reaching for the sky.
An ode to acid reflux, written by GPT-4 on the day of its release. The image is DALLE-2 generated.
