Night in poem

February 27, 2010
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Cold and wet
White flakes
So pretty
But here it mixes
With the blackness
The black ashes of the dead
To make the world a gray place
With death everywhere
A little girl in a bright red coat
Walks with her sisters and mother to her death
Walking toward the building with promises of a shower
Walking toward the building with the tall chimneys
Where the ashes are coming from
All to never be seen again
For the flames had gotten them
And now they join those who rain down on us with the snow
All around are starving men
The walking dead
One breaks ranks
For some extra soup
Just to be shot in the head
A little angel hangs from the gallows
No one helps as the little angel dies a slow death
No freedom
No name
No life
Just death
Hanging over you with every step

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