The March

May 6, 2009
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The March had begun on the evilest of nights.
Darkness and snow had filled our sights.
The SS were marching holding weapons of our deaths.
Our lives would be over with one shot to the head.
I bit my lips to prevent them from freezing,
for I had begun to think of a peaceful sleeping.
I was dragging my skeletal body which weighed so much,
one loss of pace will have death at my clutch.
Men were collapsing and dying in the blood - soaked snow.
It was evil’s likeness called, The Devils show.
Death wrapped itself around me,
for that is all that I could see.
It is a long endless road,
for death was much simpler to feel neither weariness, nor cold.
We had forgotten everything, death, fatigue our natural needs.
They were the things evil was most likely to feed.
My wounded foot was completely frozen,
like so many others whose froze by the dozen.
We had at last reached our final destination.
It brought to me a great sensation.
The snow had ceased to fall.
Night was giving its final call.
We were quickly transported to barracks within our sights,
in which we jostled and pushed as if it were the gateway to life.
I found myself on the ground by this massive tide.
Beneath me I heard trampled men letting out moans and cries.
It was not long before we were driven out of the camps,
it was not long before we would receive a death stamp.
The march of death had begun again,
for once I shall fell my heart bend, yet again.
The memories of horrors have refilled my mind.
I only hope that I will survive the hell of my time.
The March had begun.

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