Poetic Eyes

Arbeit macht frei (Labor Frees)

Labor frees is what they said,

And so the camps grew, brick red,

With their bare hands they built,

Not knowing the upcoming jilt (betrayal)

In a hateful world they lived,

In rapture they all believed,

For many, it came too late,

War convoy is always followed by Death

Women and men, rich and poor,

Old and young, innocent and impure,

Look the same in the eyes of Death,

As they give out their last breath.

Poem by Konrad M.


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