One More Poem Before I Softly Die

I am one one Man who lost that happy spirit now surrounded by Frost A chill to the bone who cannot return home Sing for me while I play in the Dark a tree branch I feel but can't touch that bark My Name is nothing special to the Reader who reads A poem like this which gently bleeds With the blood of a dying Fool Here is what I be, no crown is meant for a peasant such is Me I NOW DIE!!!