Pills

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

One yellow pill I hope 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,
Tells me I'm happy when I'm not.

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

The capsules tell me not to sneeze,
or cough, or choke or even wheeze.

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

The orange ones so big and bright,
Stop 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.