I have so many mutual friends with Dominique; some just acquaintance, others close friends.
Death don't care how old you are;
when it's time to go, you go.
Maybe to a better place,
or maybe you just turn into ash.
But it's definite...
there's no way you can make your presence felt anymore;
the only thing you'll ever leave behind,
is your absence.
Ironic, because life is a paradox itself:
the only reason you lived, is to eventually leave
--
Question is how?
