Tuesday, June 7, 2011

holocaust poem

It feels like they are tearing,
at skin,
at clothes,
and worst of all at life,
the only thing keeping us here,
is each other,
they want us dead but we live,
don’t give up,
push through,
don’t give in,
live through,
‘till liberty,
but wait mommy?
where are they?
have to keep pushing through.

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