Auschwitz Poem by ruthie warren
Auschwitz
So with each day that passes by do angels gather at my door
and with each passing breath I learn to fear my death no more
My stomach yearns for food, its learned to cope but still it craves
I look around the room to find the dead that dig the graves.
Should I awake from this vile dream and find reality
is nothing more than futile hope then dear god pity me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 12:44:39 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
