The Four Horsemen Ride Poem by Joseph Cross

Justice is served, and the battle is won,
But none of this damage can be undone.
As the four figures ride, into places unknown,
The land becomes wild and overgrown.
Death, Famine, and doubtlessly War,
Joined by the Antichrist to complete the four,
The horsemen ride to cleanse our lands,
And purge them of our murderous hands.
Mercilessly killing all, ensuring that mankind shall fall,
Whilst victims grovel at the War Horn's call.
They all bring weapons, making puppets of men,
Ensuring our mistakes will not be made again.
Famine destroys us from the inside out,
Showing us what suffering is truly about.
War turns brother against once loved brother,
Dying at the hands of one another.
Death leads on with his darkest of forces,
Killing all men, from the rich to poor orphans.
And the Antichrist stands there, comforting men,
As they leave homes to never see them again.
And slowly the Earth is turned into Hell,
And nothing is left but a horrible smell,
But the scent cannot be remembered if no one is there,
And the smell dissipates in the misty night air.
Beauty is restored, and the land reborn,
Whilst men are no longer present to mourn,
And justice is shown in the lands we once loved,
As we all now view them from below or above.
And soon we return in a different form,
In the light that remains at the end of the storm.
And there we shall stay for centuries more,
The land not resembling what it had been before,
And the Four Horsemen will not ride out again,
As long as we do not disobey our great friend,
For God orchestrated this long wrought plan,
Meant for the rebirth of the world of man.