Death Camp

Haunted, tear wet eyes stare from the picture,
a yellow cloth triangle shone above the young boy’s heart.
The lonely face, wracked by sadness, tried hard to smile.
Hurt and suffering, carved deep into the frail body
to flay a soul that didn’t want to feel any more pain.
Buchenwald, 1945, he was five years old and all alone
in a hell even God did not understand.