The Little Yellow Pill Poem, by Paul Bell, at My poetic side

A little bit of hash ain't no trash

Mother needs that little yellow pill to keep her still

L S.D, it just doesn’t agree

Father works so hard, I find it sad

Purple Heart, not a bad start

Sister’s going to complain, boyfriend didn’t turn up again

Tonight it must be speed, such greed

Mother's going to bed, she’s going to rest her head

I’ll try cocaine, it sends me insane

Father's going to say, well son, how was it today

I’ll smoke some grass, let life pass

My sister has to say, you don’t look too well these days

Well, it looks like it must be Babs

Especially now, I’m sad

Mother’s dying, Father’s crying, Sister’s ill

I think it must be the little yellow pill.

Comments +

Friendship September 18th, 2026 08:21
Sad yet so true, drugs destroy people's lives and families. Well said. Your poem portrays a bleak picture of a family struggling with various forms of drug use—both legal and illegal—as a means of coping with pain and sadness. Each family member is depicted as grappling with their own issues, highlighting the pervasive effects of addiction on individual well-being and family dynamics.

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