They gave us pajamas today! All striped and gray,
And the skies were the same - no light in the day,
Mama says we are safe, holding me tight,
But why do the guards stare, as if filled with spite?
We sleep in rows, close together, in the cold,
There are boys and girls, young and old.
We draw pictures in the dirt on the floor,
Pretending it's a garden, like the one we had before.
I wear these stripes, that's how everyone is dressed,
I keep waiting for warmth, a blanket, and some rest.
I also don't like the food here, it's yucky and small,
And where is Dada? He doesn't answer when I call.
I want to go home, I don't like this new place,
The other kids are nice but I miss having my own space.
We have to take a shower and Mama's crying even more!
But there's no smoke right now.... just a closed, heavy door...
YOU ARE READING
To Live is to Die
PoetryI find war a fascinating topic-so broad yet so focused, filled with so many emotions and endless stories to explore. Sadness has its own kind of beauty, and that's what I wanted to capture here. To Live is to Die is my way of remembering the lives s...
