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matt7777

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My Poem about WWII

The Play of Death

I remember the plays.
Everyone is nervous, while the clock goes
?Tick, tock. Tick, tock.?
The actors and actresses must grasp their lines;
The time is nigh.
I remember being there.
No slip-ups were allowed,
Or the diabolical directors would have kicked you out for good.
Making a mistake is making you a candidate for massive and mortal maltreatment.
The backgrounds were covered with grime and blood,
A very horrific sight.
The play was about to begin.
The lighting was dim, almost nonexistent.
Everything was dismal.
The plot was certainly the strongest memory.
It was sad and constantly involved death and cruelty.
The footsteps made by the actors and actresses made a strong echo,
And sounded horribly eerie.
Some of the more powerful spectators noticed the horror,
Most of the plays were cancelled.
A few plays were cancelled by the directors themselves,
The performances were just too horrid.
I remember the glee when my play was cancelled,
I couldn?t stand the horror of the plays.
After almost 5 years,
All of the horrible plays were gone forever.
Some plays had ?Broadway? style popularity,
Like Auschwitz and Dachau.
Other plays were more ?Off-Broadway?,
Like Maly Trostenets.
The plays altogether featured many millions of characters,
And 6,000,000 of the characters died.
The whole experience was a horror story for me,
I was lucky to memorize my lines.
Many words can describe what the plays seemed like
Dark, hopeless, depressing, dirty, bloody, slimy, silent, and eerie.
You may ask which play I performed in,
Mine was the Terror of Auschwitz.
Now, you would never want to see this,
As not a single thing was positive.
It's an entirely figurative poem about concentration camps I wrote for a school assignment.