I look around me and all I see
are people scared confused and dying people.
just like me only to look up but cold dark eyes.
that do not see.
eyes that reflect the lies
about people just like me.
whisked away in a little box
to a place they call a camp.
where death runs over us like an ox.
wearing a number like a personal stamp.
with their ribs showing the hunger has taken over.
we know now we are never going to be free.
the end us coming closer.
death has almost drowned me,
I take one last look around and see,
that they were all people just like me
YOU ARE READING
My small story and poems
Randomso I started writing on notes, and i came up with this small story and remembered I had some poems... it seems like a waste to keep them in the storages of my phone so I'm going to put them here the small story will be first so yeah, now their is s...
