Found Poetry: Crematoria Poor devils. Adults. Small children. Babies! Was I alive? Awake? Sleep tended to elude me. What a shame, what a shame The world isn't interested in us. Sanctified, infernal flame- Anger, rising heat- The pit and it's flames... Today, everything is possible. Even the crematoria. That smoke, that silent sky, Condemned to live. As God himself, Striking anyone, without reason. Rain on us, angel of death- Waste your bitter tears. Today, everything is possible. Even the crematoria. -'Night'
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