Survivor ( that is the title)

Survivor

A girl too old for dolls
Yet,she sits and rocks her baby
It is what is left of her old life
When things were innocent
When things were good
Growing up with the ravages of war
Created by a madman
Claiming a master race
One she could never be a part of
Gone is the yellow star
Gone is the ghetto
Gone are the nights of hunger
Days filled with horror
Through it all her doll was a witness
Concealed and hidden in the day
Bringing comfort in the night
In a hell no one could imagine
And what once brought comfort in that hell
Now speaks only of insanity