Basking among wilted blades of grass, oh so drenched from morning’s rainfall.
I feel like they are watching me, all around, in an open ground. The atmosphere feels wrong. I cease to believe there is existence of protection. The vivid memories of sinister barbed wires, wile I think of what it is that makes them that way, not they’re sharp pickets, or they’re blackened color, chipping paint, the thickness, the sterness-non of that. It’s not any of that at all, it’s the uniforms, they cast a dark shadow on my heart, they make it pound and freeze, it feels cold and harsh, that's never how I thought of it-my heart. Those poor men, they aren’t a part of those blue uniforms, they too are victims of the uniforms, because they have no choice. And it sadens me, I’m sad for all these people, for the natzis, for the poor blonde haired man who’s twisted mind has filled his hollow heart with insanity. All this because of our belief, a “religion”, how is it that people believe like him? This man, he’s got no choice, his brain is deformed, but how is it, they, with healthy minds could generate and devise such a sick unatural concept? How is this?

The sky is dim with a luminous feeling, yet it too makes me nauseous, a sickly feeling it reveals because I know this isn’t going to end in my life time, I know I’ll never see another birthday balloon, or a Christmas dress, or an Easter egg, something as modest, as insignificant as an Easter egg, but I’ll never get to see one again-because of my ansestors belief, for an opinion, something that was simply passed on through generations-I hold no fault for the cause of this treatment-yet I am being treated with such evil. Ignorant minds multiply, It's like a disease spreading, this concept, as if it is no ones fault they fallow along with it-they are being controlled-I fault no natzi! But I do fault them, they listen to a crazy man, instead of helping him with his illness-THEY LISTEN! I blame no religion, or culture, no ethnicity, but I grieve for the natzis they are being forced to kill! This heavy weight is being thrown upon them, an everlasting strain, and though long after my killing, my death, my grief and sorrow, my anger, my pain-they will still have the berdon of all those innocent victims they had to murder so carelessly, and put on a forged smile for, acting as if they took pleasure, so that they did not loose they’re own life, you know that’s how it would happen to you if you were a natzi too-don’t doubt it, but long after we can feel, they will be recalling our pain, our tears-we’ll be dead, some of the Jews are dead, and others, they’re dead, so non of them can be sad anymore, can feel the pain anymore-but they will live with they’re harms and unwilling crimes for as long as they live, and to them, forever. Wile my body lies there with bruises and past torture-I won’t be able to feel when I’m dragged into an oven full of human flesh, and when they tumble me into a pit, how I fall out so lifelessly into a pit, of bodies like mine, I won’t be able to feel it-only they will. So when they grab me so unthinkingly, with harsh large hands never seeming to let go, dragging me behind, with rough, stiff caleses on they’re hands, let me smile at them, may I see a slight grin, so slight I might think it never there-perhaps only a concentrated thought mistaken for a hidden grin.