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