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!!!
Copyright © Brad Travers | Year Posted 2010
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