Sawmill of the damned - The Adventures Of Werner Holt

In the sawmill’s rotting chambers The walls began to scream, Men stripped of their humanity Like ghosts inside a dream. The blades were grinding madness, The air was sour with dread— Holt saw the line of mercy Crossed by living and by dead. In the sawdust of the damned Something broke inside his mind: The war unchained the monster Lurking deep in humankind. He knew he’d never see The world again as kind. Gomulka stood in silence, Eyes haunted, pale, withdrawn— And Holt felt childhood dying As he watched the world move on.