Why is death referred to as a painful truth?
Because everybody dies and not everyone lives?
Why is life considered a beautiful lie?
Are you really living a full life or one short and full of heartache and pain?
The truth of life is that you die, but when it's all over, are you happy with it?
Have any regrets?
Is death painful?
Do you really go to Heaven or Hell?
Or do you never open your eyes again, and lie in a coffin 8ft under, rotting until you turn to ash and bone?
No one really knows, but it's up for you to decide:
Is Life a beautiful lie?
Is Death a painful truth?
Or is it vice versa?
Which will you choose?

Never let them see you cry...



Never show them how much you die inside.




All it ever leads is to heartache,
broken dreams, and wishful thinking....

After this terrible heartbreak,
We know your right there by heavens gate,

Watching over us, protecting us as we live on,
But we cant get over the fact that your actually gone.

We miss you dearly, and no one could ever replace you,
You were our superman, flying through the sky oh so blue.

We are living a type of hell, wishing you were here,
But we know we'll see you later, and raise up our glasses of beer.

We take a shot of Jameson, a toast to you old man,
Whether playing the role as daddy or brother, no one can do it better than you can.

My name is Sabina Low (Green) and I survived the Holocaust.
I was born on March 21, 1922 in Ulanow, Poland.
I lived a pretty normal life for my first 10 years.
I was one of four kids in a Jewish family.
Then after I turned 11, kids at school started to avoid me, my friends would no longer speak to me.
They  weren't  allowed.
I remember crying about it to my mother and her comforting me, reassuring things were alright.
I stayed through school without a friend for the next 6 years...
And then war broke out on September 1, 1939.
We could hear our Jewish community scream every night as Poles entered their homes and took what they wanted.
1941, Germany invaded the USSR and occupied Ulanow.
1942, there was gunfire heard near the town. I wandered to my Uncle's house which was also nearby, curious to know what was going on.
I reached the house but it had been broken into. I searched all inside and then finally checked the back.
There my uncle lied on the ground shot and his stomach tore open...I thought he was gone, but he was alive.
I rushed inside to find something to cover him with and found a pillow.
When I picked it up, something heavy fell out.
It was a dead child, my cousin.
I rushed back outside to cover my uncle and the last words he spoke were, "I  pray  that  you'll  survive".


Later, I was aided with false papers and fled to Stryj, and I remained there until the Soviet army liberated the area in 1944. Then moved to Israel in 1957 and came to the United States in 1960.

I may have survived, but I have not forgotten. I relive my past every single day. I  remember, but will  you?

I sat on my bathroom floor, body shaking uncontrollably.
I had just thrown up another meal, I couldn't stop it from happening.

"Oh yes, dear mother, the food was delightful…"
Little did she know, that nothing I ever ate, stayed to be digested.

People might ask, why would she do this to herself?

Well, she might answer:

There once was a girl who wasn't the tiniest, the prettiest, or skinniest, who longed to be someone else.
She weighed 130 pounds, although one might not think this as heavy, all the other kids did.
She was bullied and called names: she was fat and ugly. Evenutally, there came a point to where she broke down.
Becoming what she is, was the best decision, she'd ever made…but laying there on the bathroom tile…she wasn't sure.