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Rated: E · Poetry · War · #1915954
A poem about a holocaust survivor
There was a time, when I was a number
Before that, I was a man
You came and drove us, from our houses
In part, the final plan

You pinned a yellow star to me
The symbol of its time
Persecuted for the faith, I follow
Forced to wear a sign

Into the wooden trucks we filed
Like cattle, we were treated
Left without food nor air
Inside we were defeated

Now hear I stand, a prisoner
Among the living dead
We wear the striped pajamas's
And live off scraps of bread

On our wrists, we wear a number
No badges, not a name
An everlasting legacy
Of hatred, borne of blame

There was a time, when I was a number
So listen, while you can
No longer am I a number
But I stand here as a man


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