I have seen the gates of Hell,
in this room I call a cell.
The faces I see are of the dead,
their ghost-like screams are filled with dread.
Forced to work both night and day,
tormented always with no pay.
Thrown from our beloved house,
degraded to nothing but a mouse.
The old days were bright and filled with light,
now they are dark and stained with fright.
As they lay me in the ground,
I feel my pulse stop the pound.
My ears can hear now the sounds of bells,
I am no longer in this Hell.
My days are now filled with light,
My life is no longer stained with fright.
YOU ARE READING
The Cell In Hell
PoetryThis is a poem that I had to make for my English class. It is about the holocaust. I used the feelings that I had bottled up for so long to write this. Vote?
