Poem
We leave the cattle cars behind,
footsteps crunching as we walk.
I fear the future is not kind,
As they prod us like a flock.
The S.S are on all sides,
shooting, shoving, yelling.
I concentrate on my strides,
As other people try rebelling.
The man in charge yells,
I go left, my son goes right.
As we head to separate hells,
I realize my true plight.
To the "showers" I am brought,
Hundreds of people in at a time.
No one has fought, we are caught,
nothing to do against this crime.
As people realize they've been deceived,
They weep and cry out in hate.
But their cries go unrecieved,
and they must just sit and wait.
Down come the canisters of gas,
The easiest way to kill us all.
And our lives, away they pass,
The last sound, a child's squall.
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