I talk back to the Creator,
I cling to life.
He has measured it out,
And I resist.

With cheer and with sleep,
With surface and with depth,
As doctor and as lawyer,
As lost and as taken.
With refrigerator, television,
The global and the meager.

I go to the dentist,
I bear children,
I carry a paycheck,
I sweat and I work.
I tear and I grab,
Yet I will hear the sentence:
“Enough.” And I die.