Author's Note
For everyone, I am new to the world of typing. I usually prefer to write things out by hand so forgive me if this poem has some problems. If any who read this would like to give constructive criticism, or see's any editorial problems that I need to fix, kindly please message me and I shall make sure to fix them as soon as possible.
So please read and enjoy the way that Luna's mind works as she struggles through her worst stage of life.
Alone and Trapped
I am lonely, locked away, and trapped. No one wishes to hold me tenderly, or whisper sweet nothings in my ear at night. I am abandoned and tossed aside like an old memory, fuzzy and easily forgotten. I gave of myself all the time, working so my subjects could see the beauty of my night. I helped lead my so called loyal subjects; ponies who claimed they stood by my side in kinship. I gave all my care and love, yet I received naught in return. Not a single whisper of the words thank you or how kind.
I am not even acknowledged. I try to help take others pain away through their dreams by blessing them with happiness. In return I am left with even more pain, and they, none. Is it too much to ask to be held, even for just a night? All I ask is for a night... A single night full of loving tenderness. Alas it is not to be, not in this world and nor in the next if my expectations hold true... Ah heartache, it is bittersweet and forever there for ones such as I.
I know I am not the first nor shall I be the last. Though in my mind I know this to be true, in the lonely pits where my heart cries and weeps in anguish; it does not feel the sweet cherishment, nor feel soothing and tender words. Thine wounds continue to weep openly and flow abundantly. I am alone; neither here nor there, and getting nowhere.
I flow down a swift, freezing river where the surface is encased in ice and though I pound away at it , I slowly suffocate. I get no respite, I get no air, my tears cascade and freeze upon my muzzle. For I know I shall not remake the surface without another hoof pounding against the ice that keeps me trapped.
I am forever lost within a labyrinth, always being turned around and not finding my way to the egress. The egress is always shifting, going just out of my reach every time I draw near to my goal of freedom. I am surrounded by subjects, loved ones, though none seem to be aware that I too am a pony. I am lost within the confines of my own twisted Nightmare. Instead, I am treated worse than a stray animal that has been starved and left frozen in winters cold embrace... At least a stray is given scraps to live, the occasional warmth of a hoof and kind words. I am given none, instead told to go and find my own, if I am of any worth.
I am led in one direction and then shoved down another and then turned around and slammed into a dead end, forced to try and find my way again though all sides are closed. I'm locked in the highest tower, the window teasing my fragile mind, just out of reach, barely big enough for me to squeeze through. At closer glance even that narrow chance is barred and wired shut. I'm at the bottom of a cavern looking upon a glass ceiling out into the bleakest night, never to see the land above or feel the cooling air upon my coat. I am forever trapped within an existence that is utterly incomprehensible and entirely unfavorable.
I'm locked, chained, and aching for somepony to free me from the confines the world has placed me in. No confidence, the world has slashed and torn it down and crushed it underhoof. I look up whimpering as I try to seek out a gentle guiding pony to lead me to the light. No one hears me, no one listens as the darkness sets in and crushes the sight and blocks out the sound of the world. Is it too much to hope that one day I will find the one meant to save me from myself?
Save me from turning the world to darkness, save me from the miasma that is hurting me? One I can turn to and find shelter in their hooves? No? Maybe? Hopefully? It seems as though I'm left to fend off this alone with fake, stabbing smiles and harsh jokes with biting words, but that's all that's left of me. A worn, tired, shell of a mare that has nowhere to turn to but the Nightmare of myself. I'm not only my own worst enemy; I'm also the only one I can be truthful to since none wish to hear the cries of a pained and lonely torn soul.
Finally though I see a crack in the darkness, someone is reaching out, is that warmth ripping through the ice? I finally break free and can breathe, I looked out upon the light that saved me. Opening my eyes, I'm stunned to see the place I have returned to. It is the dilapidated castle of my sister, stone toppled and cracked like a throat dried out in the desert. Slowly turning again, I am shocked as my sight is filled with decayed bones of my ponies lying twisted and crushed under rubble. Completing the circle my breathe leaves me, as though I'd been bucked in the chest.
There, surrounded by a young group of fillies from all walks of life, was my sister. Her coat is whiter than purest light, and hair that flows on a wind only she knows. My hooves are weaker than a newborn foals, taking a small tentative step forward. My mouth moves to form her name yet no words can escape my throat as it cinches tight and chokes the sound. Instead she is the one who moves first, each golden shod hoof sounding like the pounding of ancient war drums upon the horizon. I tremble in fear, burying my muzzle between my hooves in a shaky bow.
I shiver like a leaf upon a cold winter wind, blown about and battered by my own subconscious. My wings curl about myself, forming a barrier of downy feathers. It is then that I notice I am still very much young, but also very old. I wonder... perhaps it had something to do with the power my sister used to banish the Nightmare of myself? It had probably kept me secure, tucked away in a small part of the monster I'd become and made. I feel a gentle caress of primary feathers along my back and a voice warmer than sunlight flows across my ears.
"Luna?" it asked in a timid voice. Weakly, I lifted my head from the ground and saw the tears that shimmered clearer than any diamond in those sweet eyes. It was then that I knew I was home.
Worthlessness, despair, anguish. These are just a few of the adjectives that I would use to describe myself on the best of days. I wish I could simply ignore it, or make it vanquish, but things are not always as we wish it to be. I know I must seem annoying or brutish to many of my subjects and the few acquaintance's that I have made since my return. True, even to myself I think of me as somebody I would blatantly ignore, or be wary of. Too hyperactive, too needy, too eager to prove myself worthy of standing by my sisters side again. I try numerous ways to garner her attention even when it is of the unwelcome and berating kind.
Maybe one day I can rise above these feelings of unworthiness,; perhaps it will come about and I will no longer remember these days but as a simple fleeting memory... I doubt it though, I have done things I should not have and I am far from the innocent I wish I were. If I could but turn back the hands of time, I would probably end myself in the womb or as the idea implanted in my parent's heads. I love my sister and the Elements of Harmony. I am glad to have their help to try and get me reacquainted with modern society. I too have managed to play some parts in helping them defeat foes who wish harm upon our world and I am grateful to have made myself useful again even if it means combat.
Too myself though I still deserve the punishment so rightfully needed. Even if I add all the good I have done in recent days, I do not think I am worthy of being alive when so many others lie dead at my hooves. Darkness creeps in and reminds me of the harm that I have done to my subjects and my country. Whispers beckon and claw at the back of my mind and drag me into an unending stream of nightmares. It makes sleep difficult; tossing and turning, thrashing and flailing in the night as I try to escape the chains that threaten to drag me into eternal hellfire. I wake in the comforting embrace of twilight more exhausted then the day before. Sleep claws at my eyelids, weariness settles and seeps into my bones and sinew. Exhaustion is a cloak I wear wrapped in its familiar embrace to the point it is an odd feeling when I manage to get a dreamless sleep.
I torture myself with the help of the Tantabus. It is a just and deeming punishment that I relive my crimes over and over so that I may never again forget what I have done. Sometimes when I wish for a night away from the curse I placed upon my own mind it is just a bottle and me; perhaps another and another until they lay strewn about my hooves and the ghostly vapors make forms that wrap around me and drag me away to the realms of Morpheus. Oh how the god of dreams makes a mockery of me! Cavorting about chasing me and making me the chaser, back and forth down endless corridors and pathways that form the labyrinth of of nightmares that plague my dreams. Sometimes the walls have faces of the Stallions and Mares my former self has slain in her goal to become Queen of Everlasting Night.
The near death scares that jolt my body awake just before I become a splatter on the ground from a running leap off a burning building. Those are the easier ones to wave along. The true ones that terrify me are the half remembered feeling of being locked in a darkened room being watched by thousands of eyes, the feeling of millions of legs running up my body and the chittering sound filling my ears. The unquenchable terror of insects crawling all around me from the swarming sea of dead bodies are the ones I awake from, clawing at my own skin and puking my guts up, just to turn on all the lights to banish the darkness for hours as I distract my mind until the feeling goes away and it is just another vague half remembered dream.
I dread the nights. How odd for the Ruler to be afraid of her own realm. I may share it with thousands of others. Other beings that also have the terrible burden of being the denizen of the night in some strange shape or form of the other cultures. I wish I could go back to the days where dreams embraced me, and Morpheus was not the cackling old mad stallion of a Zebra that he is now. Each night becomes something to dread, something to fear inside my own head. I have taken to staying up until my body can no longer handle the hours and simply blackouts. Even then, I cannot escape the hellish nightmares. Beings of my own minds creation that chase after me as if they are the hounds of hell that smell fresh blood upon the battlefield.
Looking into the mirror, I find myself beginning to waste away. A once glorious midnight coat, now paler than that of the lightest greys. An ethereal mane full of stars and constellations themselves, now lies limp and dull, scraggly with no sign of a phantom wind to lift it.
"Death Horse" is now whispered amongst the halls I tread. I cannot even find the anger or fire to bite back at the absolute disrespect that fills and lines the castle servants. I know that they speak the truth even if this generation no longer remembers those dark time. When 'Death Horse' was a true fitting name but in an entirely different context. I laugh, the sound devoid of life and harmony. I almost wish I were the Death Horse they speak of; to show them truly where to apply such a term.
NO! I cannot allow myself to continue along this path. I once traveled it and it separated me from the one being in this universe who dared called me blood and Sister. With the final vestiges of strength, I gather myself and cast a small glamor to shroud my appearance. If I wish to keep myself from going back to that wretched time then I suppose it is time to finally seek help from the ones who rescued me. It is time to once again throw myself to the Elements of Harmony and drive out the Tantabus.
