What really lies on the outskirts of a town
Is it the fading yellow road lines
The grass a golden brown?
A born flowing to one particular side
Chirping breaks the silence
The animals come and hide
What really keeps a town from a city?
Is it the solo structer or uneventful things?
The reoccuring weather changes
The stillness when the churchbell rings
Or is it the darkness
Few lights illuminate the path
By chance the everyday life
Swallowed by a hungry wrath
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