A Holocaust Poem In the P.O.V. of a 5 year old Boy...

Mommy,
Where are we?
Who are these men?
They tell me to quiet,
What is that in his hands?
Why is it pointing at me?
Mommy,
Why are you crying?
What's wrong?
Please answer,
I hear you pray,
silently,
as we kneel in these holes of dirt,
Mommy,
I heard a noise,
I'm scared,
Why can't you comfort me?
Why won't you get up?
Mommy,
Why won't you speak to me?
Mommy,
Please,
I Love Y-...