I walk the hard road between bloody past and dangerous future,

Stepping with care and silently screaming "I bear no vengeance!"

Spreading goodwill and grace, reinventing from the darkness,

Yet I cannot forget, and that is my curse,

For occasionally, I think about my hand,

My meaty hand, well-feed and nourished by a false life,

Around all their throats.

And I forgot who I was and went after those who I might have become,

A dog of the nation on the trail of the hunted prey, scenting blood,

I built a dreamlike paradise of my philosophy and locked the doors,

Sealing myself in a tomb of narrow-minded misunderstanding,

Until I heard the walls trembling at the sound of his voice, clear and bright and terrible,

As my visions fell, one by one abandoning reason, so did I.

What did I have to live for, once my castle gates were smashed?

I built myself a life of giving that led me to the edge, where vultures lay.

They plucked my teeth and left my bones beneath my skin to sustain me,

Then they penetrated the rest and I became nothing.

Send us money! More! More! More!

Sacrifice yourself at the altar, let us take your blood and put it to use for the wretched ones,

For your wretched one,

And maybe it shows my fallacies,

But sometimes, in the middle of the night as I let out squeals of pain for someone else,

I selfishly curse her, and them, for not letting me keep myself.

I live on the streets and my voice is the sound of gutters cracking open to reveal the scum.

I barely sleep but when I dream it is beautiful, it is so damn beautiful because none of it is true,

A garden of Eden with no angel to drive us away, you and me, but you wouldn't know.

Of course, you do know, and you refuse to see,

I know why, known since I first mentioned the angel that drives us from our garden. You smiled and looked away, hoping to find her.

I've always known that toads shouldn't lust after swans. Pity it happened to me.

I am nothing, and the whole is greater than the sum of the parts, which is nothing mathematics can teach,

Neglect my part, I will have no mistress but the whole, I will live a glorified servant to the masses.

But I will be a servant such as their Jesus. Lead them to the promised land like Moses.

I will stand there, pale-lipped and wide-eyed as the sound from my gun collapses a man before my eyes in a spray of blood,

Wondering nothing, just thinking of why it had to be done, never inquiring about the tremors coursing through me.

And we will stand only to fall, when the tale has run its course.

...

Ok, so some explanation. This is a poem on Les Miserables, each stanza relates to a character. They should be fairly easy to guess...please R&R if you liked!