The Four Horsemen

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Vintage Publishing


End times are close

Submitted: September 13, 2018

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Submitted: September 13, 2018

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The sound of horses galloping, beginning to crescendo,

Four Horsemen riding, a sign of the apocalypse.

Not a false alarm or joke, certainly no innuendo,

End times are close, icy breath of death on my neck.

 

The sky becomes dark, the moon begins to bleed,

It’s quiet on the earth, nothing stirs, not even a mouse.

Time itself seems to freeze, the clock stops ticking,

Overwhelming anxiety, something bad is going to happen.

 

Target mark upon my back, there’s nowhere to run,

No safe haven to reach, no country to seek asylum from.

The Four Horsemen draw closer, thirsty for blood, the

Apex predator drew a reverse card, and becomes the prey.

 

Hunted across every corner of the globe, an extension event,

There is no cessation, until every human is pronounced dead.

Spidey senses tingling, they know our every possible move,

Blitzkrieg is their strategy, quickly advancing towards checkmate.

 

The whole earth is burning, smokestacks cause a solar eclipse,

Polar night overtakes us, even within the Sahara desert,

Green grass dyed with human blood, turns into crimson,

All of our sins and misdeeds, are finally being punished.

 

The end of the world, not limited to how we know it,

Dialed 911, but got sent straight to voicemail.

Divine intervention won’t come, this is truly the end,

The four horsemen, leave destruction in their wake.

 

The sound of horses galloping, beginning to crescendo,

Four Horsemen riding, a sign of the apocalypse.

Not a false alarm or joke, certainly no innuendo,

End times are close, icy breath of death on my neck.

 


© Copyright 2018 Melancholic Wisdom. All rights reserved.

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