Illing

The world's a little hinky I suppose,
At least the little bit my stomach is;
The buzz within me consistently grows
Along with something like a soda fizz.
Some basic thing within may have gone wrong,
Or else the acid; my pH is off,
And pushed off-key my inner happy song.
If comfort is the peak, this is the trough,
And I lie here, considering with care
Parts of myself I often take for granted;
I wonder if there's any hope in there
To reach back toward the balance I have slanted.
If not, I'll simply take another pill
To ward off the effect of feeling ill.