Hope

Hitler, I'd like to meet

and to him I will greet

Why do you hate the Jewish fleet

Their bare feet march down the narrow street

As Rabbis wonder if their maker is who they are going to meet

The unbearable German heat beats down on their skin

As they realize they will never return home again

As they realize that the battle they thought they could win

As they remember the dreams that could've been

Passes by them through the wind

This poem is about: 
Our world

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741