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Questions From The Broken

My name?
I lost it.
My personality?
They broke it.
My freedom?
Forever gone.
They came, they came,
And swept me away.
Striped me to nothing,
And forced me to stay.
There were others, others,
All without features,
Everyone looked the same,
Do they think this is a game?
We are headed like animals,
Beast of burden.
Why may I ask,
Why are we here?
Do you not like our hair,
Our beliefs, our eyes?
Or maybe…
Yes, yes it must be.
All of that and more.
We are Jews.
You hate us.
Wait, it is not only us.
Gypsies, gays, and others,
That lack, “perfection”.
Blonde hair, blue eyes,
Those perfect genes.
But you yourself lack them also.
So let me ask one more question,
Why aren’t you suffering with us?




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