Disclaimer: I don't own Les Misérables. That's Victor Hugo's job. But, if he's dead, then who . . . ? *drifts off and blinks* I SHALL TAKE OVER THE WORLD!
A/N- First Les Miz work, so go easy on me.
"The Final Hour," a Les Misérables poem
By the Phantom Parisienne.
Heat and passion
Fighting for freedom
Young men, losing their lives to a great cause
Destroying all hopes of a future
They do not know their fates;
Fates that are black with death.
When the battle is over, bodies are strewn everywhere
They were shown no mercy:
They were shown no pity.
Bruised and beaten, the youths fall one by one
Death awaits them at the barricade.
Their final hour is the darkest:
Bullets and blood;
Pain and death;
Terror and panic;
They spread through the barricade,
Yet the revolutionaries show their bravery
Till the end of their lives.
A/N- First Les Miz work, so go easy on me.
"The Final Hour," a Les Misérables poem
By the Phantom Parisienne.
Heat and passion
Fighting for freedom
Young men, losing their lives to a great cause
Destroying all hopes of a future
They do not know their fates;
Fates that are black with death.
When the battle is over, bodies are strewn everywhere
They were shown no mercy:
They were shown no pity.
Bruised and beaten, the youths fall one by one
Death awaits them at the barricade.
Their final hour is the darkest:
Bullets and blood;
Pain and death;
Terror and panic;
They spread through the barricade,
Yet the revolutionaries show their bravery
Till the end of their lives.