In the caverns of our bellies, a storm roars,
A firestorm, a fierce waterfall, acid reflux ensue.
With burning rage it surges, a boiling tide,
A burning pain, a bitter fate, we cannot hide it.
The tender walls of the esophagus, its fragile armor,
Under the attack of the beast, it trembles and agitates.
A burning pyre, a molten flood, our throats besiege,
In silent prayer we seek respite, a moment of peace.
A sizzling potion, hydrochloric, nature's brew,
The assistant of digestion has become a bitter enemy, a blow of anger.
The fickle gate, the lower sphincter, stands crooked,
A faulty latch, a treacherous guard, our battle cry.
Armed with antacids and PPIs, we rise to fight,
Against the fiery crimson foe, a valiant spectacle.
With diet, rest and medicine we will persevere,
The grip of heartburn, a pain that fades, will soon disappear.
In solidarity, we rise, our voices strong,
An acid-weary refrain, a heartfelt song.
The struggle is real, this stomach war, but we will win.
And overcome acid reflux, banish it, reveal it.
So let's raise a glass of water, calm and cool,
To wash away the flames of the fire, the burning fuel.
Together we will rise above, morale high,
Against the acid reflux storm we will touch the sky.
An ode to acid reflux, written by GPT-4 on the day of its release. The image is generated by DALLE-2.