My Red Suitcase

April 13, 2018
By Charlotte3 BRONZE, Wyckoff, New Jersey
Charlotte3 BRONZE, Wyckoff, New Jersey
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The bright red suitcase was pulled out of my hands.
My innocent eyes confused
With all of their obnoxious
And loud demands.

My brown ponytail drooped,
The tight bow pulled out.
My thoughts were like rain,
Only pouring with doubt.

The men did not want to help.
The men were only here to hurt.
So I grabbed at my mother,
Holding the crooked hem of her skirt.

Said skirt was ripped off,
As well as my own.
Then replaced with stained rags
That were poorly sewn.

My hands latched onto my mother’s,
Her body less recognizable.
I was pushed around by strangers,
My mind unadvisable.

Her hair was then shaved off,
As well as my own.
Her eyes glew with fear.
Her future well-known.

Then I was pushed,
Away from the crowd.
My mom had gone lost,
My mind a storm cloud.

We were all pushed towards showers
To wash ourselves off,
My mind had gone clear.
Although, far-off

A man had screamed,
Ran then was shot.
His body bled through,
Left alone to rot.

My eyes widened in horror,
My body had shaken.
I was in a sea of strangers,
Feeling forsaken.

My mother then found me,
Her eyes sore and red.
She hugged me so tight,
Her thoughts only dread.

Then our bodies collided,
Pushed in a room.
Who would ever know
What would cause our doom.

The doors to the room closed.
The strange men outside.
I wondered what would happen
And my mom had only lied.

She told me it was okay,
She told me it was alright.
We had our last breath,
And no one put up a fight.

I had no idea,
What had happened back then.
But now our history,
Has remembered these men.

They remembered the strange men,
Soldiers so strong.
Yet; the leader behind it,
Was completely wrong.

The author's comments:

This piece is about the Holocaust and the story of a little girl being forced into the gas chambers. 

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