Strange Fruit is falling

Strange Fruit is falling

Its skin, bruised from years of neglect

Its soul weary of the fight

Its soul, beaten down for standing strong in its convictions

Its blood paints the ground for loving its brother

Strange Fruit is Falling

Strange Fruit is Falling

Its offsprings cry out in confusion and agony

Its offsprings cry out in anger, for the sins of those they trusted

But no more tears can be shed

Its offsprings get consumed by anger, swaddled in the fire of oppression

Its offsprings swing in the trees awaiting their turn to paint the ground

Strange Fruit is falling

Strange Fruit is falling

We swing from trees

We bend our stems for our brothers

We peel our skin for our sisters

We bleed for our orchard, slave to the melody of time

Strange Fruit is Falling

Strange Fruit is Falling

Kayla, 17, is a senior at DeKalb School of the Arts.

Join Kayla and other teens around metro Atlanta in sharing your story, poem or art, speaking up about race in Atlanta and America today.  Our teen dialogue about race will be held Saturday, Dec. 10 , 2-4 p.m., free and open to preregistered guests. For details please contact Susan@VOXAtl.org.