A convalescent home.
The fragrances of corpses filled the air.
At every step, white signs with black skulls looked down on me.
The claps and whips cracked around my body.
The bread, the soup--
Those were my entire life in the place.
I can tell you,
The weak did not last long here.
The silence became more oppressive.
Harsh words sent shivers through my bones and nerves.
Fear was greater than hunger.
I would have dug my nails into this criminal's flesh.
Who came in, and with him the smell of the angel of death.
Driving out my despair, I could move away from being dead.
I no longer cared to live.
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Author:
Cesuke (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 10th, 2021 20:41
- Comment from author about the poem: This is a found poem I made from the book I was reading called "The Night" by Ellie Wiesel, It's a book about the Holocaust.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 12
Offline)
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