A short poem about young Javert. I suck at summaries . . . R&R, please?

"... like one of those malenky toys you viddy being sold in the streets, like little chellovecks made out of tin and with a spring inside and then a winding handle on the outside and you wind it up and off it itties ..." Alex's suicide attempt did have permanent repercussions, how will they alter his life? R&R