Life killed the dream that she dared to dream.
Life gave her change,
And Change killed our poor Fantine.
Between Life and Death was the only choice,
She prayed that death would strike her by surprise.
If not for her prize,
The fruit of her womb.
Whilst working till she gasped her last breath,
It seemed she lamented her life away.
What had she left after such mistreatment?
And if trust were left in the farthest corner of her soul,
It was to be in man?
Man who drove her to insanity.
Or A Man, a Man with enough pity?
If not for mistakes, we could live our dreams,
Watch them morph into realities,
And into little perfect stories,
With flowers, sunshine and happy endings…
But in the midst of wars,
Spiritually, emotionally and amongst humanity,
The brothers are weak,
Whilst the enemy gains strength…
Hope appears to be dead?
The truth is,
What kept my Lady,
Kept her going for as long as she did,
Was the strength from one greater,
The One that knew her hearts desires,
The One who heard her deepest fears,
The One who daily dried her tears,
The One who took her home to rest.