Fruit

Strange fruit just don't hang no more

They rot in streets with gaping holes through them before they even ripen

Cut open to be eaten up

but only the good pieces

these fruit aint never good enough to be displayed at the market

strange fruit get cloned now

these fruit get stopped and checked for browness on their way to the market

thrown outs its way only to be forgotten because thats just how it is

they're never good enough

but for some reason these strange people always want a bite

 

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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