You are never and it is empty

by mazikeen

Rating: teen
Tags: Random
Length: 1089

In the beginning the light was dim, and it never got better. Some pensive poetry about Celestia, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and their companions.

In the beginning the light was dim, and it never got better.

Some pensive poetry about Celestia, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and their companions. Isn't it great.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-08-13 18:20:03 UTC

It's not evil

Rarity is not much. She’ll live to the death. Good pony burns out both ends. Not that there was a candle. Her table is bare. Womb little better. Moment of honesty, it’s an eyesore. There is no way to better. She’ll end with blood on her hooves. Take bad with worse. Split them down the middle. Right down the wretched abdomen. Rarity likes to watch them spill their guts. Not much for hers. She knows there is little difference. Easily her instead, when all are mites. She’ll still mock them. Nothing even burns. Only dwindles out of notice. Still half the fun. Even if she’s only a girl. Last she checked. No one understands. She’ll kill the neighbors anyhow. What else is left. To bring out the superiority. Friendship makes it all complete. When all are swaying in the breeze. All legs borrowed. No excuse for a human being. What matter. It’s all equally nothing. Rarity has stitched her arguments together diligently. Hooves are always sore. Don’t look out the window. There goes my beautiful world. Like the tears of a farting unicorn. Rarity ruins everything. It makes her smile.

I chew their souls and

What nonsense now? Another mare, all the same, their all the same. She finds it hard to tell the difference often, they mean so little to her. Doesn't know how they stand otherwise. Once she thought it'd be funny for all their feet to be replaced with wheels. But that's neither here nor there. Another day will go gray. Please don't say you'll stay. The light fades and indoors isn't so warm. Yes, it was she that hit the cat. Let's change your names to Why and Bother.

Rainbow Dash loves her friends. It’s not what it seems. They make her feel better. Well, they pass the time. It’s something to do. Makes her feel like there’s a purpose. Better than reading. Who wants to think. What a downer.

On the street she stands. Long past the crossroads. She is alive and there is no joy. Not from them. It is preferred. Love was a dumb idea anyway. What else to expect from unicorns. They make her skin itch. She makes theirs bleed. If she brought a straw she could pretend to be a leech. She would make leech sounds and do a good job at pretend. It would be just like Halloween. Maybe she might land a movie role after such a good acting job. She will not. Her mane is a rag and smells like peas.

Equestria is a happy place.

Still Awful

On the pedestal, five specks. Pony shaped. The beauty of life and additional profanities. Waiting for nothing. They face each other and would rather not. Rainbow Dash, Twilight, Rarity, Fluttershy, Applejack. They would rather not. Once they pretended otherwise. There is no sum to their dreams. They stand stoic. But there are no friends and not for ponies. The previous forgotten, the worst cast away, the best never was. They are arranged in pentagonal pattern, little difference. One and the same to their eyes, no use for shapes among the initiated. Or too dense to tell the difference. “I was not alone,” said one. “That never happened,” is the unanimous reply.

Here she comes my little phoenix

It’s a sunny day in heaven. It doesn’t rain and there is no love. It’s the best part. She never wanted this. Celestia and the phoenix. Is not she alive. It’s over. But it will never end. Babbling ponies. They leak from both ends. She has the bird. The phoenix. Both immortal, together forever. Poor company. Eternity with nothing but a bird. Sure got her feathers burned. Gave her best to the decay. Can’t be helped. Can’t be helped. Nothing to it. This is awful. She’ll kill them all. There is no such thing as justice. All the best we can do is nothing. Little nothing. Not ever. Celestia is fucking profound. Celestia is forever and she is nothing. All her words are ugly. It really isn’t interesting. No one actually wants a fucking martyr.

I wouldn’t die for you. Look to the dirt. Grasp the bitter gray. Celestia has forever and it is empty. The bird, the phoenix. The little ponies. Kept company and friends. Generally recognized as waste of time. But she has all the time. To waste. And while she laughs. She must admit eternity isn’t the hitch. Only incidental. A prolonged scab. Life at any length unacceptable. Give a poetic description of blood. Among the first to rid the heart. Little progressions pass the cycle. Threw that out as well. Never a hint of truth. All worn away. Even before her arrival. She broke the best of them. Little fun bears the cycle. Let’s heighten your allure. There is no sun in heaven.

Too little too late. Celestia goes on. Eternity set in her eyes. Such as an unwashed butt. It’s true she wanted them dead. Why not. Why bother bothering. No getting through to any of them. She only sees them cry. Pouring out their dumb skulls. They don’t know if to go forward. If to keep company. It is Not a life decision. There is no company. She’ll pay all the hidden costs. Doesn’t matter if you want it. No fate, a small consolation. She’ll curse at the children. Teach them their lessons. Celestia is a good teacher. No children. Not here, not ever. No one watching anyhow. Let her add in another fucking swear. Why. For old time’s sake. She doesn’t care about the old times. It is something to do. Poor company. Can’t be helped, she has the bird. No picking sides. Burn the feathers. She’ll burn it all. Fine repetition. Always in the wrong ways. She never met a pretty pony. She wasn’t really doing any favors. Throw it all in. You’re not charming, not witty. Celestia sears all. All the light is good for. She knows no darkness. No wrong. This is still awful. There is nothing. There is nothing not awful. There is nothing good. Celestia has no good. Let her die please. There is no death. Not for the best. No god for the gods. If to keep company. Have a faithful student. She killed the bird, nothing dies. They all gave up. Only incidental. Ever death. Isn’t that the beauty of life. No. Well, she’ll make it so. Celestia has never and it is empty. Keep that way. Absent to the end.