Hanging Tree

I really like the first two lines of this one – “There are strange fruit tonight | In the hanging tree” and after some thought, the rest of the poem grew into what you see here. I hope you like it.

There are strange fruit tonight,
In the hanging tree;
All eyes that turn in dark regard,
Spy a judgement cold and hard,
Is this what’s left for me?

A crowd of ghouls gathered,
’round the hanging tree;
Here to witness my demise,
As I’m the one they now despise,
This fate is soon for me.

My eyes trace the outline,
Of the hanging tree;
Future seen in twisted branch,
I spurned my one and only chance,
Of running far and free.

I stand beneath the bows,
Of the hanging tree;
My skin recoiling from the noose,
Begging please to be set loose,
But no one turns to me.

There are strange fruit tonight,
In the hanging tree;
For things I’ve done to other men,
I’ll never walk this earth again,
Strange fruit I’ll alway be.

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