Good Pain
The coldness in the air is a good kind of pain, as I stood there in the rain that winter night with no more fright. It’s how I know I’m still alive, I don’t care to survive. There’s nothing left for us to live for ever sense the war I am no more. The towns have burn down to the ground and the cries in the sky now gray, let us pray no more because this war. The Germans determined we are nothing. My imprison family was killed today. They spread tears and their fears as they hung so young in the last vast minutes of life. I am next I do suspect, but I do not care so I stare out at the raining sky as a noose is hung lose around my neck.