Gay Nazi Jews With a Bowlcut

Miles away a baby cries. Tears of hunger and pain. Dust rolls in clouds, and we lay here and pray that we dont get eclipsed by it. But what of the ones who are left without voices. Throats as dry as famine. What of them? What of the ones sitting alone, on the cold hard concrete, waiting for daylight to shine on their faces, heal their wounds. What of the ones beaten, and shrunken like socks left too long in a drier, all for what they believe...who they love. The strong and proud, slammed into submission. Struggling, toiling, in their silent cells. Who speaks for them that cant speak for themselves. Do you hear the hearts pleading? The hope that threatens to drown us as each new day dawns. Remember those who are lost in that sea. For after all, "Attention must be paid."