I am the holocaust.
The year
Is 1940.
I sent my men across Europe
To seek the people,
Who would cease to be,
Because of me.
First they were kind but then
They were not.
They hit and shoved
Regardless of wealth standing or age.
Race was all the mattered.
I stole men's homes
And so I owned part of them
They had started to cease to be,
Because of me.
In the trains they were happy.
To work they went
This was what they believed.
But when they landed at Auschwitz
They saw the truth,
Me in all my glory.
Burning their future.
I brought them all down
To the same level.
Made them equal
And took what had once
Made them different
For my own.
All their worldly belongings
Were now mine
Many ceased to be that night.
Because of me.
But some lived.
Some survived
Past that fateful night
And lived to work for me.
But those who worked were truly
No longer human.
Son killed father for
A piece of food
And son abandons father
On his deathbed.
But this was no wonder,
Considering they now lived
In the domain of death.
But a few even lived
Past this injustice.
These were the few
Who lived to tell my tale.
I have two names.
I am the holocaust.
I am also death.
The year is 1940.