~~~~~Holocaust Child~~~~~~

I am a child who used to make mud pies.
Looking out from under my tattered scarf with dead eyes,
Around me I see the skeleton legs of those tall,
And the tired eyes of the small.
I hear loved names called in anxious voices,
And dreams dying for fate's unjust choices.
And I wonder: Who will survive?
Come tomorrow, will I be alive?
Each night my bare feet freeze.
Was there really a time when sickness was only a sneeze?
And each dawn I wake for another day in hell.
I never knew that hate could have a smell.
I remember playing in the sun.
I remember having strength to run,
And counting the stars in the sky.
Now a star is cause to die.
If wishes could come true,
Oh I pray they do,
They'd realize their sin
And close the death-filled loony-bin.