A man dies.
Does anybody miss him?
Is he suppose to be forever alone, even into death?
That hardly seems fair. And what does he have to show for his life?
Did he leave a legacy?
Why do we have to live? So that we can die?
Life. A strange concept when it comes to such early demise.
So much left, yet all of it gone.
Slipped through like the sands of an hour glass.
Not even to go into someone else's hour glass.
Just to sit there, useless, needed by so many, yet wasting away.
I guess that that is what is meant by "life's not fair."