The Day After

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The Day After

I was the 4th horseman
I remember how it all went.
I am here to tell all, I tried.
I spoke to my brothers, urged them to hold.
I didn't want this.I wanted to give man a second try.
To reflect.
To be better to each other.

My brothers rode out early.
They did not wake me.

As I rode madly, trying to catch them
I saw
They touched everything
All three.

I knew I would speak to them later.
and all I could do
was pull my night hood around me,
hold my shepherd scythe

And guide whom I could.

Later, before I spoke to my brothers
I wept
and saw my own undoing....

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Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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Jericho666’s Poems (10)

Title Comments
Title Comments
The Colour of Satan 0
Hands 0
Waiting For Hell 0
Angel 0
The Day After 0
Sympathy For The Damned 0
Stone Gargoyles 0
When the Moon Gets Full 1
The Woodlands 0
You 0

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