On the Noose or the Podium

Of the people that I know
there are few that I would go
quite so far as but to say
that they would care if I were
on the noose or the podium.
I dare to venture to say
that they would neither
mourn nor applaud
that they would neither
mourn nor applaud
if I were to find myself
on the noose or the podium.
I reach out to them often
with lack of response
I say I will give up
but for some reason I care
so I reach my hand out
as they pretend they don’t see,
my best efforts ignored,
so I kindly implore that you
come find me, you’ll find me
on the noose or the podium.
I know you don’t care,
but just in case, I’ll be there,
over there by myself
on the noose or the podium.
Of almost every friend I know
they say goodbye, I say hello,
but they’d care not if I should go
on the noose or the podium.
I will swing or stand tall
as my fate comes to call,
I will break or prevail
as I conquer or fail
the choice is out of my hands,
so come mourn or applaud for me
if, of course, you would please,
by the crowds or the trees,
hold your hands out to me
on the noose or the podium.

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