Precariously Placed Pony Poems Picturing Plenty of Pheelings

Sombra was having impure thoughts
impure for that of a king
he'd be the laughing stock if he was caught
He settled, and his bell he did ring

The servants, all male
Crystals at the ready for Sombra
He passed, many turning pale
He stared into their double-entendre

You see, Sombra liked crystals
so much so each stallions stick was painted as such
Their hair began to bristle
He enjoyed this very much