The tree stands limp, dormant within a garish black unheard sky
Innocently displaying
(Mans inferiority complex)
Light reflects white which lays in leaf and dried blood
...
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A beautifully crafted and sensitive poem, enhanced by the note. Once referred to as strange fruit the corpses from trees were hung, the rope held fast and tautly wrung, while humanity absent, unravelled, and without witness to account, commenced and ere' since, came undone. Thank you Karen.
I think I was remembering the exact picture as I read this. Powerful and pointed. -c