Four Horsemen Poem by Joe Nemeth

Nobody can see this hidden war,
Where the rich own the rights to the poor,
And corruption rots us all to the core,
Ignore it, lock it up behind the closed door,
Say we’re fine ‘till we hit the floor,
All our humanity and morals, from our minds they were torn.

While million dollar jets flying, shipping around the rich,
Impoverished kids are dying, so why do we keep paying those,
That don’t need it, ‘cause it’s time, to cure the global itch,
We’ll never admit, even while our own blood flows.

Guess we’re gonna just hang on tight, watch the train derail,
Still we refuse to fight, just dig our graves and sit six feet under,
Am I to believe we’ll just surrender, let our world grow frail,
Never give up our splendour, even at the sound of the thunder.

Am I to believe, we don’t care about the strife,
We’ll just shy away, pretend it doesn’t affect everyone’s life,
While chaos is so very common and rife,
Tell-tale, of our sanity’s rapid half-life.

Someday, we’ll notice the hidden war,
Someday, when it’s too late for the poor,
And we’ll all be hollow at the core,
Too late to open the door,
Ignored too long, Earths problems will spill to the floor,
And through our delayed attempts, they’ll have torn.