My Last Fellowed-Sorrowed Heart. Poem by Michael Gale

I ran and i ran as fast as i can and i can....
He was still after me, that man, that man...

What should i do or do and do? ...
Not many know, of what to do, by you.

The thrill of it all, is but only my call...
I am too, too short, not even tall-at all.

I must trick this cad...
Because he is bad, he is bad.

How may i win this war? ...
Strong willed of body, not hurt or sore.

He tore at my arm...
With sword in hand.

In deep it went to blood-mine shed...
I am now, real cold and dead-
-I am, i am.

This ghost be of mine, to scare with and haunt...
My last fellowed---My soft--sorrowed heart.