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Let me ask you something, Hitler
Can YOUR birds sing?
‘Cause I don’t hear any music here in Auschwitz.
I tell myself I’ll hear them sing again someday,
but if there’s anything you’ve opened my eyes to is that
there just isn’t enough miracles to go around.
And these wounds, these wounds didn't come from Nazi hands.
These wounds happened the day you to
re(tore) my mother right out of my smile and put her in another line,
never to be seen again.
These wounds were made by my hopes and dreams trying to claw their way out of my chest,
but the smoke suffocated them and they, too, fell and burned in the pit.
Theses wounds tell the story of a heart that burns itself with hate,
and let me tell you something,
“my hopes and dreams still aren’t rising from the ashes.”
this hunger is so intense it can no longer be described as the need for food,
but as a lack of God, a self-destructing pain.
And the bullet you put through my older sister’s skull was just the quickest way of letting it out.
You took everything from us,
Even dawn was stained with my youngest sister’s ashes:
Floating around, among us.
Lightly landing on my skin as if to give a final Goodbye;
and to say, “I’m sorry for leaving you to cry alone.”
Although she had nothing to apologize for.
She was three years old
and owed nothing to the world
but raw materials.
And my girlfriend was the kindest woman you’ll ever know,
so she ended at the
bottom of a pyramid.
A pyramid made of 200 dead animals
Who had torn their loved ones apart trying to reach the last fresh breath at the top of the chamber.
Yeah, you turned us into animals,
but there is one thing you’ll never change about my people:
We are like grass, interdependent and connected.
So as long as one of us survives,
none will die.
So you can’t hurt me.