Eleven million innocent people passed
through this gate, and
never returned.
Arbeit macht frei- such a lie.

Walking through this unassuming
rusty iron gate, you see what
looks like a village. But then
there's the barbed wire.

The bar across the road says 'Halt! '
It's up now, and the gates are open wide
to the freedom these people achieved only in
death. Arbeit macht frei- such a lie.

A bird soars over this haunted place. Is it the bearer of the freedom
so many died to achieve, or of the death
so many got but didn't deserve? The souls of millions
roam this tragic land, for evermore.

The sun sets on this terrible place- a thing of
ironic beauty- the colours muted in remembrance
of the millions dead.
Arbeit macht frei- such a lie.

Arbeit macht frei- the biggest lie
ever told. No amount of work could ever
set these people free.
Such atrocity, nevermore.

Jessica Bunnell

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/arbeit-macht-frei/