Seven gowns do I see in red
Seven gowns for the seven dead
Dark horses rear up snort and stomp
Rearing against their riders pomp
Eyes open wide and nostrils flared
Unkempt mane with white teeth bared
Pale red glimmer where once were eyes
Reduced me instantly to size
Pounding sounds from far away
Mushroom clouds and ruddy spray
The demon spurred the great steed on
Around me as I stood alone
His sword in hand was held so high
Lightning struck it from the sky
The demon had his job to do
And would do it until his job was through
Humans could have stopped this mess
Lived in peace and careful progress
But men are small and filled with greed
Never satiated in their endless need
And now the riders pushed their steeds
Towards their dark inhuman deeds
To end the reigning of mankind
Until no human being is left behind
YOU ARE READING
I See Through
PoetryPoetic musings of Barry Tudor on life and introspection. A journey of a motorcycling American poet lost in the midst of his own country. Hellish past. Glorious present.
