The Living End Poem by Zevanda Borjon

The worlds are colliding
and I can no longer stand
decaying in the rubble that surounds me
beside the beaten and the damned.

I prayed for forgiveness
for my internal sins
triumphing over evil
will good be the one who wins?

The first to show his face
it started with a bow,
the white horse came to rise
then the face of our foe.

With conquest as his name
he was the begining of the end,
completing his task of misoury
then he began to descend.

Though as shocking as it sounds,
the next was worse than before,
he brought tradgety apon the land
for this horseman's name was war.

With a malacing sword
he stuck the land,
his horse red with blood
by the innocent man's hand.

Famine was his name
and he was next in line,
blocking out the sun
so it could no longer shine.

With his horse black as the night
and double scales in his hands
he brought hunger to this earth
for only the he demands.

Completing their reign
the pale horse came to rise
with no words to say
terror came in our eyes.

For his name was death
and he would end all,
with a touch of his hands
our lives began to fall.

Though unsure of the fate
by the chaos that surrounds
the horseman at their feet
grimacing at the sounds.

Content with the agony
that started with a cry
laughing at humanity
as they crumble and die.