All are doomed to rust.
Time destroys our lives.
Nights cut like knives.
And the wind carries away the dust.
All are doomed to love.
All are doomed to die.
Tonight bring the black tomb.
For even the most high.
Even those in this room.
Cannot pretend to fly.
And I know.
Even you.
Even I.
Must die.
Excert from THE VISITOR by Christopher Pike