In the bunker’s depths, darkness crept,
Where shadows danced and silence wept.
In April’s final, fateful breath,
History marked a momentous death.
The tyrant’s reign, a brutal sway,
Had led the world astray.
But as the war’s end drew near,
His downfall echoed clearly.
In Berlin’s heart, besieged and torn,
The dictator faced fate’s scorn.
As allies closed their tightening grip,
And desperation began to grip.
Within those walls, where fear did dwell,
Hitler bid his last farewell.
No escape, no grand retreat,
Just bitter end, in grim defeat.
A gunshot rang, a final cry,
As Hitler chose to die.
His reign of terror met its end,
Yet scars of his deeds still rend.
In history’s annals, his name remains,
A reminder of humanity’s pains.
But in his death, a lesson lies,
Of the cost when power blinds the eyes.
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History of Sorts 
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