The Last Poem of Jean Prouvaire

by grand-taire

He was often overlooked by the rest of Les Amis, but Jehan would be remembered in death. He would make sure of it.

A/N: This poem is more based off of Jehan from the Brick. This is my first fic poem thingy (I'm not quite fluent in the lingo yet), so I hope you like it!

The air is warm

Yet stinks of blood

Of the others whose fate I will soon share

Their hands push me against the rough brick wall

Soon I will be delivered

into the cold hands of death

They offer to cover my eyes

But I refuse

I will stare down the enemies of freedom

They will feel my pain

They will not forget Jehan

They raise their guns

I raise my voice

Vive la France! Vive l'avenir!

I float though I fall

I soar though I crumple

My heart is warm though my body is cold

I died a martyr

And no one will forget

The last poem of Jean Prouvaire