The Fourth Horseman [Day 16 - Disease]

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From the hollow hills,
The Fourth Horseman
On a pale steed doth ride,
Cloak trailing in the black wind
Where disease and pestilence abide.

With a crimson scythe that reaps
Many in its terrifying wake,
Souls asunder weep and wail.
Affliction follows, death awaits,
As the Horseman scours the mortal vale.

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