Me make my blackout poem? here’s the text:

one day when idek was venting his fury, i happened to cross his path. he threw himself on me like a wild beast, beating me in the chest, on my head, throwing me to the ground and picking me up again, crushing me with ever more violent blows, until i was covered in blood. as i bit my lips in order not to howl with pain, he must have mistaken my silence for defiance and so he contin- ued to hit me harder and harder.
abruptly, he calmed down and sent me back to work as if nothing had happened. as if we had taken part in a game in which both roles were of equal importance.
i dragged myself to my corner. i was aching all over. i felt a cool hand wiping the blood from my forehead. it was the french girl. she was smiling her mournful smile as she slipped me a crust of bread. she looked straight into my eyes. i knew she wanted to talk to me but that she was paralyzed with fear. she remained like that for some time, and then her face lit up and she said, in almost perfect german:
"bite your lips, little 't cry. keep your anger, your hate, for another day, for later. the day will come but not . clench your teeth and w a i t "
many years later, in paris, i sat in the metro, reading my news- paper. across the aisle, a beautiful woman with dark hair and dreamy eyes. i had seen those eyes before.
"madame, don't you recognize me? "
"i don't know you, sir."
"in 1944, you were in poland, in buna, weren't you? "
"yes, "
"you worked in a depot, a warehouse for electrical p a r t s " "yes," she said, looking troubled. and then, after a moment of
silence: " do "