Another poem about the Edgeland.
As the towns and cities expand,
so is formed, the edgeland.
This is a place in-between,
unnoticed and hardly seen.
It is a land of decaying concrete,
where town and countryside meet.
Where the outlanders live,
forming a festering ruminative.
It is the land of the sewage farm,
a land, totally lacking in charm.
It serves as a narrow divider,
where lives, the unwanted outsider.
Where they built the tower blocks,
apartments, the size of a matchbox.
Where nature tries to make a return,
to a place of little concern.
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