Their faces distorted,
Masks contorted to fit the shrunken bones.
The final humiliation to be so alone
And trapped in a cell of arrogance.
The senseless deaths occuring
From bravely spurning questions
Asked not from curiosity,
But animosity.
How did these doctors not bleed
From their believed stigmata,
Surely they bartered with the devil
For their consciences to be destroyed.
Betrayers of their trade,
The Pontius Pilots with their blades
And their ideals of perfection.
Correction of heritage should never be a suggestion,
What sacrilige!
To be hated for your skin, your kin,
Your face, your race,
Your mind.
To be made blind to turn eyes blue.
A hue so common, yet why so desired?
Are we not all wired differently
So why force us into a box?
It shocks us to remember the Reich,
To think bigotry is rife,
Yet we may control our lives,
So why,
Do we not stand up for what is right?