I wrote this about a classic story. Tell me which one...
A man, beaten, broken, a candle at his side.
His last hope of freedom faded with his pride
This man from poverty, chained to his past,
Rose from the ashes and glory was grasped.
A simple act had changed him, silver tokens stolen,
A humble priest redeemed him with gracious words spoken.
A bitter heart turned to love, stumbling towards success.
As he triumphed, now he rescued others who transgressed.
A pair of eyes, no soul behind them, a beauty lost with years of use,
Ragged clothes betrayed her lies, with no remnants of her youth.
Her dying breaths spoke of a child, with strangers she had left behind.
She asked only for him to bring her little one, her desperation had made her blind.
He readied to leave, to save this child, with a love so strong.
Yet justice, long past, sought to prove his wrong.
Was he to save a child so pure, and let the guiltless take his blame?
Or speak the truth for a man, and let the child live in shame?
He confessed his past, and let the court have its own way.
The heavy chains could not restrain, his hope to rescue her someday.
Years of toil, the debt now paid, alas freed from years of strife.
With freedom earned and promise sealed, he purchased life.
A little lark with silenced song, trodden down by life's cruel lot.
He took her in and gave her all, everything that she had not.
She grew to love him as her father, knew no other life than this.
Till loomed a shadow creeping back to send her dreams amiss.
The loving father saw the man, seeking to un-cover all.
Darkness would not forget and had to see this great man fall.
The great good done could never cover his stains and elusive doubt.
The debt of justice, in evil's mind, was stayed on his account.
A heart for God, he returns, vengeance with grace.
Would cold eyes see mercy, and drop his heartless case?
No, the heart of stone grew bitter, determined to wield the law.
Never mercy give; he vanquished every flaw.
The merciful, now vulnerable, chose one last soul to save.
Even his last free moments, he willingly gave.
Carried his daughter's fallen love, for he, her future best.
Across the threshold, to his sweet one, and into the arms of rest.
The bitter man put the barrel to his head, unable to comprehend.
What was his life if mercy was victorious in the end?
This one, who'd fastened tight the irons, life's goals were now shattered
The other stands with chains again, but his heart's unfettered.
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