Javert Or Valjean

He opened his eyes to misery,

Running blood of an outcast,

Inhaling the thrusted hatred,

Growing into his future's past.

With age, with the inhumans walking over him,

La société had forged a fallen Moloch.

A child had died that day and,

Reborn was a legalist with a guilty coloc.

Finally, he had a purpose,

To guard the tricolor's land.

Saw in black and white; a stoned conscience,

Give or take a life, whatever was the demand.

What is freedom to him?

Will he ever yield peace?

Or are the sins of his ancestors over the brim?

And just before his epitome of satisfaction,

Lord unleashed yet another mystery.

A prisoner had escaped,

So began the manhunt, a madness awakened.

For years, he ripped the meadow,

Determined, marched every ghastly shadow.

The criminal had to be punished, evil foreclosed.

Mattered not his crime, even as petty as stealing a loaf.

Several encounters, several escapes.

Then came the judgment day,

His finger caught the needle in the hay.

With chaos leaving no stone unburnt,

Hell had raised and Heaven descended.

"We, the people" eventually learned.

Javert outnumbered, the prisoner ascended.

"Oh, Jesus forgive me

For I have failed you"

Fearless of death, was his soliloquy,

Unknown of what was about to be.

He stared into the eyes of his failure,

Helpless yet proud

"Take your revenge, kill me aloud"

Knife slit but not his throat.

At Valjean's mercy, he was free to live.

Oh, but he had died, though he was alive.

His morale was crumbling, ethics questioning.

Now with no purpose, how could he thrive?

Damnation of his conscience pounded his head,

The path of his life seemed finally yielded.

Still guilty, there was only one way to tread.

One final testimony, to prove him clean;

It was either Valjean or Javert,

It was Valjean.