Strange Fruit, Indeed
by Raquel Shante

Strange Fruit

No longer swinging from the trees,

No longer swaying in the Southern breeze.

Strange Fruit

They now fall from the poplar trees,

Not yet ripe.

Left to rot in the street,

For the world to consume.

Strange Fruit

The taste is bitter,

Yet sweet.

It is a Strange Fruit,

Indeed.

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