Days, Weeks, Months And Years

Days, weeks, months and years,
That's what children tell their peers,
About my death, diary and life,
About my hope, love and strife,
Confined to a few small rooms,
Wrapped up like a big cacoon,
The pain of hunger always there,
The sight of hope was very rare,
Behind the bookcase is where we stayed,
For all those years, months, weeks and days,
All for nothing, nothing at all,
Captured us after a call,
Placed us in the camps of our deaths,
Typhus took our last breaths,
Anne Frank was my given name,
My story is a worldwide fame.

FOLLOW US