Suspended

I wake up and find the familiar smell of sulfur hasn’t left my cell… they tore off my wings, they shaved my mane, they shoved hooks into my hooves to keep me suspended off the ground, they even cut my throat… not deep enough to kill me but enough to almost take away my voice then instead of using magic to heal me they used… traditional means.
With each sting of the whip sending me deeper into oblivion I look back to see where I fucked up, but all I can see is another reason to add to the list of why I hate weddings.