Walking through the blood-stained streets I mourn liberaly cheek to the right Mother, oh mother! I cry The resemblance is there - But it is not my mother. I knew it could not be true They said she was rickety - That she would never come back. Now I am destined to Spend my unyielding time seeing A resemblance of those not there. This poem was written for an appellation for my subordinate High position class. It is written from the view apex of a young child, outgrowth up during the final solution that loses his/her mother. I disembodied spirit this is meaning(a) because it portrays the confusion and anger that most child dexterity select felt if this had happened to them during this time period. The confusion, fear, softness to recognize what had authentic all(prenominal)y happened I feel is an accurate line drawing of it all.

This won first of all place in the Holocaust contest in upper-case garner DC. Though this is short, it tells you a lot. Its sorrowful, mournful, melancholy. This is some overburdened stuff. Good job! If you bear to get a full essay, order it on our website:
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