The Holocaust

April 15, 2009
By ilovejensen BRONZE, West Warwick, Rhode Island
ilovejensen BRONZE, West Warwick, Rhode Island
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Always positive
Always glad.
Never upset
Never sad.

Not until those mean men came,
And beat us all down.
Not until those mean men came,
Then appeared the frown.

Clueless on why they hated me so much,
I never knew a thing.
My mom told me just to calm down,
And forget what was happening.

But those days I could not forget,
I was weary, cold, and sick.
They barely fed us anything,
And the soup was never thick.

When they asked us a favor,
We lended a hand.
It wasn’t a favor,
Just a demand.

If we said something wrong,
Or didn’t act fast,
They would hit us so hard,
We didn’t know if our lives would last.

We were separated from our loved ones,
Never to see them again.
Never to say our last goodbyes,
All because of those men.

Never understood why they took us,
We think they wanted us dead.
We can’t remember what we did to them.
Maybe it was something I said.

After a hard day of being bossed around,
We didn’t even get a bed.
We cried at night, if we could,
And dreamed of those who fled.

Escaping was something we wanted so bad,
And would do almost anything to get.
But the fear inside of us tore us apart,
Through the tears, the blood, and the sweat.

Even though I am one who managed to live,
Many indescribably great people lost their lives.
This included hundreds of once happy families.
The children, the men, and their wives.

You all may view me as lucky,
But lucky is far from what I am.
The haunting memories will never end,
They are a part of the whole Holocaust scam.

So that is our story from beginning to end,
We deserved our fair chance to speak.
Remembrance is all we ask for,
For the dead, the scared, and the weak.

Never happy
Never glad.
Constantly petrified.
Always sad.

The author's comments:
This poem is about a little boy who survived the Holocaust many years ago. It shows how he has developed through the years, and more importantly, how he changed. It was written not in my point of view, but as if a surviver wrote it.

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