There Is No Synthroid in the Apocalypse

Nine pills rattle reckless at the very
Bottom of their bottle. Four-and-a-half
Days supply, and then no more. I carry
Their container, held together with gaff
Tape that covers a label that once bore
My name. Four-and-a-half days, then they're gone.
And I will wander this wasteland no more.
I have five more mornings to catch the dawn.
Four more nights of moonlight bathing my skin,
Comforting a heart that's destined to stop.
But I have an advantage, I know when
It's last beat will come. I'll dance 'till I drop
     Celebrating sunset. Know this my friends--
     Life is a gift no matter how it ends.