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.