Behold The Pale Horse

Behold the sands of a land laid waste

By the hands of man, damned in his wicked disgrace.

In a flash of light the souls of half a mil’ were erased,

As clouds of smoke rose above the desolate place.

You see, Chris was just a boy the day that everything changed.

Relives it every morning as it runs through his brain.

His mother loved him dearly and his father the same.

On his birthday, his parents cut the workday and came,

To his teacher in her office she had papers to grade

They requested early leave, the boy gathered his things.

Slid on both of his shoes, mom tightened the strings.

Pops picked up his little man carried under his wings

And said “We’re off to see the Knickerbockers ruin the Kings,

I gotta card from Auntie Mia waiting for you in the Kia,

She told me I should give it to you if she didn’t see ya,

You got a necklace too I won’t be mad if you don’t rock it

Your Grandma sent her picture in this heart shaped locket.”

Chris took it from his fathers’ hands to put in his pocket.

His mama took a picture of The Garden & cropped it

Posted to the gram, caption read “Its going down!”

Little did she understand the words made her a prophet.

Dad found parking in a lot and paid twenty.

They hurried to the gate and this is where it gets heavy.

They passed an old man selling thoughts for pennies,

Yelling “Behold the pale horse as she trots and whinnies!”.

The time stood still and the world just watched,

As a ball of flame swallowed up forty whole blocks.

Shocked and in panic, Chris ran for cover.

His father went manic; crowds trampled his mother.

The fire seared the sidewalk for miles away.

Kind strangers led him by the hand into the subway.

And this is where he lives, even unto this day.

He carves another tally into the wall, and so he prays,

“Dear God if you’re there please spare me a sign.

I can’t bear to live in squalor anymore than a swine.

I haven’t seen the sun since the day I was nine.

Before I die, I beg you, let me see it one more time.”

See at first there were eleven survivors on Chris’ platform.

Seven got so hungry they left in search of the backdoor,

And never came back so the four remaining were contemplating suicide.

Who would be last and who would die?

Chris chose a different route.

He offered going up top to have a look about.

He spoke of searching for food, water, and health supplies.

Or maybe soon as he pops the hatch he’ll be vaporized.

He took a chance to see the other side.

His friends preferred their own decisions and they said their goodbyes.

Chris stumbled through the darkness, never turning his back,

Hearing their necks snap, but he didn’t react.

Soon after, he found the stairs and started crying himself.

Reminiscing on all the time he spent surviving in hell.

There was rubble upon the stairwell that led to the top.

He started to make his way up but suddenly stopped.

At the end of the corridor nearest the exit door

Chris saw a beam of light shining down on the floor.

He scurried up the steps without catching a breath,

But never did he expect what he’d come to see next.

The proud city of a land independent and free,

Reduced to atoms in a shadow of volcanic debris.

The bodies turned to ash, yet preserved as they were,

Chris spotted his father just a few feet from the curb.

He dug into his pocket, and shed a couple tears,

Put the locket on his fathers neck, and suddenly hears,

A loud snarl coming down the block that filled him with fear.

He took off in a sprint until he knew he was clear.

Near the edge of the city, Chris thought of his parents.

He sobbed struggling to recall his mom’s appearance,

And so he journeys on, where he’s gone is unknown,

But rumor has it he’s still on the road looking for home.

The orange-brown sky fades away into night,

And the darkness pulls the curtain over all in its’ sight.

This place was our world at the end of the age.

A glimpse of what your future could hold if unchanged.

- N.N