He Who Rides the Pale Horse

Thanks to Creepypasta for the photograph.

eyes unknown lead fears out grown
towards promised places of peace
the dark and dank sit
sit steely stank in chairs made out of teeth

here lies the man who trusts in him
whose smile is serpentine
and breath smells sweet like summer teat
on young mens filthy minds

his nose is sharp but tongue will cut
a deep and grievous wound
that bleeds so slow, the whistle blows
for all to end their boons

and head back home to hearth and phone
their friend from down the street
say “who is this that feels his grit”
its he who buries Pete

and Sam and Tom and Jacob too
and all their children too
the dog the cat the goldfish Jack
the grass will get it too

in all the world he takes his names
from the peoples deep seed fear
his eyes stay open and thoughts are clear
with grins from ear to ear


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