Somepony is Breaking the Dishes
Author's Note
The father of a foal is known as the sire, and the mother known as the dam.
Thus, a horses grandmother also could be referred to as a granddam,
or perhaps the "dam of my dam".
Somepony is Breaking the Dishes
Somepony is breaking the dishes.
They might as well have been my wishes.
To end the cycle, that once again starts
What could so rip apart, the atoms of our hearts?
One of the two whom with I shared a bond,
Upon her head, only a hat she donned
The fur of the other was a bright red,
Far above me, did tower his head.
Never before have I felt, the swing of a leather belt,
But one cannot deny the harm, the words they share have dealt
It truly does not matter, what they fight about,
What does matter, is only that they shout.
Their once soothing southern drawls,
Now only cause me to stare at walls.
Was it the same with all parents before?
This unrelenting drama I can only abhor?
My attempts to help, are met only with jest,
And then, as a foal, I am further addressed.
Why must this mockery of a home life,
Be filled with such endless strife?
Today they fight about something new,
Something which you may have been through.
The departure of one loved through and through,
So that the next life, they might move onto.
With the idea, we cannot grapple,
Her last bite of The Big Apple.
Of course we are all destined to share that fate,
But we prayed for her day to come very late.
Out of all who eventually come to pass,
She will certainly not be the last.
I so wish that they could see,
If they listened, I am sure they would agree.
It does not matter what they fight about,
It only matters that they shout.
They will fight about things which are petty,
As simple as the wrong spaghetti.
They will fight about what grows on land,
Or they will fight about things which are grand,
Like what to do with Flim, and Flam.
Or where to bury the Dam of our Dam.
Dishes breaking like my heart,
Dishes breaking and falling apart.
With every single dish that breaks,
Another piece of my soul does ache.
Feelings run rampant, like a runway freight,
As a crowd leaves a station, our herd too does dissipate.
If the Dam of our Dam could still see,
How very worried she would be.
It matters not, who breaks the dishes,
Just like it matters not, my wishes.
They have fought about everything under the sun,
For quite a while now, my home life has been no fun.
Her passing has just been another excuse,
For the drama from which I cannot turn recluse.
Has our family always been like this?
Overflowing with drama I cannot miss?
When did it all come to this?
Was our herd always void of bliss?
Within the core, it has gone amiss.
I watch the way my siblings' dismiss,
I listen to angry words they hiss,
Apples and arborists, have gone remiss.
Before I throw words into the abyss,
In vain, I ask once more, Why Sis'?
Each of my herd demands I pick a side,
From their demands, I do my best to hide.
Out of fire, and to the pan to be fried.
My thought and concerns, will they abide?
Ever since Granny Smith had died,
I thought you two might shed some pride!
Do you not see how our orchard has dried?
Do you not see how my hooves are tied?
To me, and to yourselves you both have lied.
Have you not heard, long nights where I cried?
Did you not notice how the door, I have eyed?
No one is safe when like rams, y'all collide!
There is no sole cause to be specified.
Does it really need to be further simplified?
Y'all have created a great divide,
The makings of a home as toxic as pesticide!
No longer do friends visit, for I am mortified,
Remember back when we were all unified?
Neither do I, so that matter is clarified.
When they are revealed, my opinions are cast aside.
If I complain further, than by y'all I am crucified.
To return home from school, I am terrified.
For Apples now taste only of cyanide,
And y'all wonder why I often ponder suicide?
There is a worm in our apple, deep inside.
All my actions, to y'all must be justified.
Over tumultuous waters, I must stand astride.
Morals to your own lives have not been applied
To act like grown ponies, when will you decide?
The one you call foal, wants to open your eyes wide!
For moons and moons and moons have I tried!
Deep in our Apple, a worm does reside!
On this matter, I must stand firm.
For the protests of y'all, can only confirm.
As does our worm, both y'all only squirm
Perhaps, we are all victims of our sire's sperm?
Since I am making known my stance.
Even if one gave our situation only a glance,
No pony could say this all happened by chance.
The worm we must remove, if we are to advance.
Big Mac, you are mistaken to stay silent,
For then your heart can only grow violent.
You believe that you act composed,
But really you are only door that is closed.
Attempts to keep that feeling all within,
Is just another kind of sin.
For once the dam keeping back your feeling, breaks,
Emotion will burst forth, as if they were mare-made lakes.
Applejack you are a wonderful mare,
But you fall prey to emotions which are your snare.
If I am lying, then there is no hat you wear.
Do not give me that sideways glare!
Look at my hair, if I speak false, no bow is there!
This is something, of which you must grow aware.
For now our family we must repair,
Something that cannot be done for our kitchenware.
It amazes, how y'all could ignore,
Something as blatant as the slamming of a door.
As well me, who you claim to adore.
Y'all would rather fight, like wild boars,
Than fix the things, I rightly deplore.
Must y'all continue your dance of war?
It is something, that I can take no more,
Our Apple is rotting, right down to the core.
