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This poem was written from a little boy`s perspective while he was in a concentration camp.

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In my life opportunities are limited
Everywhere I go they push me back.
I close my eyes to cover all the horror
And to defend myself all I do is attack.

In my house love is the one thing missing
The one thing I really wish I had.
The wise men are all arrogant at home
And the arrogant ones are twice as bad.

In my life there are no roads
All I can walk on is dirt and blood.
My life is not mine and my real house is gone
All I see is wire…I cannot run.


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