What Makes You A Pony?

It has been centuries since I received anything from your hooves, Father. Why is that? Why have you shunned me away from the rest of our family? Has your mother Lyra, placed notions of paranoid conjecture, into your head? The same notions that killed my mother? Your wife?
The sole being to which you devoted your soul, and the same being you killed by poison, of an arsenic origin.
For shame, I say to my family's name. A name to which I am a slave. A name filled with ire, paranoia, and murder. It be a name cursed by the gods, of which they deem us feral…

For I have seen things, Father. Things that go bump in the night, disturbing your slumbering dreams. They be in the image of evil, evil so vile, that it melts the flesh and scars the psyche.
Yet, they show me your soul being corrupted from the inside out.
Is that why you have encased me in this pain? As you pierce through my flesh with cold and indifferent metal rods, that happen to encase the insides of this casket. Because you saw to it, to remove my heart from my ever-warm body.

What do you need my still beating heart for, Father? What purpose does that have for you- I see, I see it now. Clear as day! You are quite the malevolent one, Father. I also take it, that the ice burning my flesh is of your making? A making to prevent a false prophecy from awakening, an awakening from the depths of hell, hell so molten, that it would ease its way through the earth, and make its home in our waking realm!

BAH! Such a foalish fear you have. Yet, it be one your mother implanted into your paranoid mind. I know your secret, it be an old secret where time cowers in the light from it… I do dare, as I go against the prenotions of formality and etiquette, and say that our name is cursed. Our bloodline be damned by all that is good and holy.
For, we are daemons of the old realm, and our blood controls our very souls.

Oh, I am ever grateful for finding that tome when I was a foal. It opened my eyes to the possibilities of cosmic power. It be in the form of magics, forbidden and made forgotten by our ancestors, for, they did not fully comprehend the power the universe could give, give to every living creature. They were scared of it, just like you and the rest of our family, Father.

I do indeed encourage your fear of me and Xentriama, Father. Spread that paranoid schizophrenia to the masses, for it fuels my power, even as you read this page.

I await you in the pitch of night,

Yours lovingly,

-Starburst.