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You called yourself my neighbor. Your children played with mine. We laughed and cried together. It seemed like you were there when we had no time   But yet, when the demons came marching,
  In the attic of rigid wood I sit denied any motion, We were forced here, as no one should We’re waiting without any notion.
I am a memory A fraction of what I used to be Etched in my arm in blue ink A label, not a name, from the Nazis Unwanted, now forever apart of me
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