Gavroche
I run out to collect ammunition,
Ignoring the shouts of my comrades
Begging me to come back.
One by one, I pluck items
Off corpses of soldiers.
I hear a shot go off;
It misses.
Another one;
It misses as well.
I begin to sing,
And keep collecting,
Mocking them.
They keep firing;
Not one touches me.
I keep mocking them,
Singing and running.
Then, one touches me.
I hear the cries of my
Comrades as I fall to the ground;
As the blood streams down
My face, I get up
And begin to sing again.
Another one touches me;
All goes dark.
I die.