Illustrated PoetryDeathcamp
the spirits of my ancestors
still cry out in pained confusion
in this sad and desolate camp
once far from civilisation
helpless mothers held starving babes
praying for their souls' salvation
tricked into leaving behind homes
promised better situations
they approached their deaths unknowing
believing work would set them free
oblivious to nazi plans
to kill those deemed unsavory
those days of terror may have passed
though souls still do not rest easily
and I pray the victims know that
their memory lives on in me
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