It’s only when you’re alone do you find that all you have, is yourself.
It’s when you find yourself standing in a room filled with people that you realize, you’re alone all the same.
Who will be there when you need someone the most?
What hero is waiting in the shadows to save you?
Is there really a hand to help you up when you fall down?
How can you still go on with life when you realize that we’re all racing towards the end.
It doesn't matter how the story of your life is filled with adventure, excitement, joy and love.
Where will those things be in a year?
In ten years?
In twenty years?
In thirty years?
Forty, fifty, sixty, seventy years?
You may dream of being on a beach with the sun shining down on you with a cool drink in one had and the hand of your loved one in the other.
But I know where you’ll going to be.
Dead.
In the ground.
And with what to show for it?
Only a story of work, disappointment, embarrassment and regret.
What is life if all we’re looking for is the next high, the next thrill and the next thing to keep us busy?
For in the end I know where we’ll all be.
Dead.
And in the end you’ll find that all you have, is yourself.
Stand in a room filled with every one you love and care for.
Stand with all the people that you would lay down your life for.
Stand with all the people that you love with all your heart.
For you see, I understand what love is and what becomes of it one day.
Dead.
In a box.
In the ground.
Rotting.
Like all the other dead that came before.
The most fragile of things in this world are the most beloved.
A new born child.
A flower of spring.
The gentle notes of a musician.  
But every child loses their innocence, grows up, sees the world, and dies.
The flower grows into its beauty then dies.
And every song ends.
No thing can live forever.
Only death is eternal.