Enclosed.

The wires kept them locked in,
deprived of humanity,
driving them mad.
Electrocution for escape,
fear heavy in their cage,
cries of silent sobs,
sinking into darkness.

Death.
They burn in the crematories,
die from the suffocating gasses.
Almost 20,000 bodies a day
found in every pit.
The Death Factory,
the name of the Krematories.
They always suffer and they always die.

Shoes.
Forced to hurt with blisters,
sicken with infection,
die of weakness.
Wood makes the shoes,
makes them rough,
lets them ache.

Nameless.
Their belongings thrown away,
memories taken,
shoes burned.
Kept in the dark,
forgetting the world,
wondering how long,
wanting to stay nameless.