Death of a Sad Man

"Let me bleed!" said the man to the goat.
Cutting his voice from a single sad note.
There he sat on his small wood float,
Singing a tune that his father once wrote.

"Lift your fears from off your frame,
Burn your worries and your pain,
Leave your sorrow same and same,
And let the wholesome play their game..."

The goat just stared in the little mans eyes.
Possibly Death with another design,
The goat just stared with a grip so fine,
Possibly God with some more of his signs.

"Now you go away I say leave me be!
Is it too much just to let me bleed?"
Yet the goat just stared as it seemed he could see,
That the sad little man had longed to be free.

The man closed his eyes and began to regret,
All the little things that he could merely fret.
Little did he notion or try to clear his debt,
cause all he did was notion, and say his mind was set.

The goat lied down and began to close his eyes,
It too was time for this little one to die,
For the man and the goat neither had a lot of time,
And in death like the other, each had to say goodbye.

"Goodbye little goat," said the sad little man.
"I'll save my final breath 'till i no longer can."
"I'll see you in the end when the noble take their stand."
"I'll take you to the gate and I'll take you by the hand."