HOLOCAUST KID

i am a child, but I don't live the way a child should.
sometimes I think about when times were good
when I had a real bed and ate real food...
but then the soldiers came and put us on a train and
one can only wonder what kept me sane when
they shaved my head and
took my clothes and gave me stripes instead and
the nights were so cold...
my father and older brother gave me their bread and
now I am alone...
Yet I still dream of
a better way
when my my brothers wont be shot
every day and
I wont smell our smoke and 
that we'll be able to eat
more than bread more than three time a week
but the cold bitter nights
those I keep.