I visited the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam, then went to a coffeeshop in the Red Light District and wrote this poem.
Living in fear, hiding for your life is the worst.
Religious and otherwise, it is for Freedom that you thirst.
Cry at night, for things that cause you to parch.
Outside the windows, their black boots did march.
Hitler’s killers, on the look for you.
Every day is the same, nothing ever new.
Small, cramped Quarters, more families, no room.
No place for a young, beautiful, little girl, to bloom.
Can’t breathe, or scream out in dread.
Find you they will, then end up dead.
Sneak a peek, to see what’s there.
Nazis, goose-stepping in the square.
Their mission, is eradication of the Jews.
Who dies, they get to choose.
Anne wrote her feelings and fears, in a book.
I’m curious, and gonna take a look.
Imagine her thoughts, of dying and torture.
Must be gripping and harrowing, for sure.
Anne, never made it out alive.
Her father, Otto, did survive.
Returned to Amsterdam, after the end.
Found Anne’s Diary, and began to mend.
He got it published, two years after her death.
Words of hers, from her last breath.
It is a gift to the World, to learn and not forget.
Another Hitler, the World will now not let.
Thank you, Anne, for your bravery and courage.
You have helped, future genocide to discourage.
Enjoy your days in Heaven, and know this very well.
There is an Eternity for Adolf, in the fires of Hell.