This fic was written for a challenge my friend set me, so I hope you enjoy. Basically, it's a poem told from the perspective of a young Javert. It's not my best work, but I still tried.
Each and every day I walk the streets,
Every time, the bourgeoisie point and jeer
"Gypsy boy!" they say, but they don't know
How lonely it is right here.
The long cold winter stings my skin,
And the sun beats down on my head.
I've suffered so long, though I'm not old
I'm better off being dead
"It won't be forever," I say to myself,
When the torment is at it worst.
But sometimes I think I'm just fooling myself
I cannot actually lift the curse
That is me, a stinking gypsy boy
who was born inside a jail.
The way they avoid me, it's like an illness
From which I always ail.
But I've found a new comfort
And it comes only at night
On high surfaces, I gaze upwards
And the stars shine down bright
Always constant, never changing,
Just like the cruel world around me
If the stars never change, maybe that's why
This torment always surrounds me
The stars are so beautiful, never faltering
So I shouldn't falter either
Even on those days where feel most low
I can only just take a breather
It's not very good, but I tried my best.
Review?