The Pale Rider
Some men call me a drifter, a soul with no home.
I travel long distance, on my pale horse, alone.
Time has no constriction, immortal I traverse
upon this Earth with a purpose, I call a curse.
My path is not random, destination pre-set.
Predetermined by War, Famine and by Conquest.
These three ride together, on the Earth they disperse
all of man’s dreams and their hope, and stir up chaos.
And when the dust settles, I ride in on my horse,
And perform my sole duty less any remorse.
Have you guessed who I am with the clues I have left?
I am the Pale Rider of the Four Horsemen, Death.
YOU ARE READING
In Shadows They Hide - Poetry Devoted to Darkness and Fear
HorrorA collection of dark poems relating to Darkness, Fear and the Unexplained in attempts to thrill you! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed conjuring!
