There lies in the middle of town
A vacant site, with overgrown grass;
Its area many acres,
With crumbling brick walls.
Drivers-by give it naught but a glance;
They pass by and don't give it a chance.
They don't know its history,
They won't let it tell them
Of years gone by
With the product of wars.

Its land had contained
Multiple many-roomed houses
Where the crazy would come
And the dying would go.

The builders knew not
Of the dangers they used;
They were ignorant
That they poisoned the walls.

While still in the war
Its inhabitants were evicted
From lack of funding;
Though perhaps it was just as well.
Had they stayed, they would have breathed
Its leprous air,
And the same may have fared.

Its lots now vacant, it stood for years
Crumbling into nothing
As it was ignored.

Once the poison was discovered,
No one would buy
The now-cheapest property
Of the whole town.

Its acres lie empty.
Its buildings now demolished
Await their new birth
When healed and found of their worth.

-Anne B. Caitlin

(This poem is about a vacant lot in my area, that used to contain an old hospital; but after it was abandoned, they discovered how unsafe the buildings were (and that the chemicals and such had seeped into the soil, making it unable to grow plants), and demolished the buildings. They have yet to build something new on the property and make it safe.)