Was a true stallion ever present within this Crystal shell?
Once well-kept, once alive, with a real story to tell?
I feel a heart still beats within this Crystal chest,
but do I still have right to claim it, to possess
what other ponies feel? What they always strain?
What they call emotions, what they call pain?
I feel once there was a stallion standing in my place,
eager to aide the Crystal Empire race.
I felt his hooves dig into that warm soiled ground,
looked through his eyes and spied all around
crystals, crystals, crystals of immense height.
All so brilliant, all so, so bright.
I felt his brown fur, his broad shoulders and bones,
his scruffy black mane, spoke his own dulcet tones.
His smile, my smile, was always of a sad melody
which he hid well behind his own remedy
of crystals and chisels, which echoed day and night,
never once giving ponies any kind of true fright.
I feel once that stallion had a true bleeding heart.
With every mare he would dance, eager for a part
of their lives, oh, just a quick grasp.
A solid relation, he never could clasp.
His devotion was to his crystal-study-work,
what secrets they held and what darkness would lurk.
One mare, he did flirt with, both day in, day out
her selfless heart? He could not do without.
He one day bowed down and held out her hoof
with a ring on his horn, trying to be aloof,
but she pushed him aside, just like all the rest
and turned up her nose in a show of detest.
Such a humiliation that this stallion did woe,
he no longer cared towards other ponies who know
of his growing obsession with crystals and gems,
how they twinkled, how they sparkled, how they stood with no end.
Every public viewing of his own crystal being
gave the words 'hermit' and 'fiend' a new kind of meaning.
I feel that stallion had it all at one point,
but for some other reason, he left the joint
for a crystal catacomb underneath the empire;
l feel if he hadn't, the feelings of dire
need for these crystal would never expand
across this oddly colorful, cheerful land.
Deeper and deeper, I remember his straying
within his own mine, soon left him praying
for some divine soul to guide his way down.
His hooves were cut deep with crystals, ears with the sound
of his own sobs and echoes. For the first time there,
I felt tears of terror, tears of agony, of despair.
The fear of the eternal expanse did creep within.
It was cold, it was dire, and he didn't want that to begin.
He stomped, he hollered, he fell down flat
and was whimpering, simmering, yelling like a brat.
Can any pony blame him for behaving so odd?
His life was on the line, and he was begging for god.
Deeper and deeper, ever curious the cat
drifted down and down lower until he fell flat
into some strange expanse; above something twisted
and right before any cared could have been listed
the stallion started climbing those infernal stairs,
all the time listing off unusual cares.
He wished to see light, see day, see those sights
that before had sent him below the sky's heights.
He had tears in his eyes as be began a low trot,
never once noticing the crystals below had rot.
He gave at once a low laugh, which began to grow,
unaware of the danger that lurked nearly below.
By now I have to add that this stallion is a fool . . .
a stubborn old, pathetic, yet pitiful mule.
I cannot remember how he made it all through,
but the next part I recall was the surprised and scared view
of his eyes meeting mine inside a crystalline hue.
I saw him back up with me; it could not be true!
His hooves, my hooves, had turned solid black.
Our horn was now reddish, and glowing without flack.
Our mane was a wisp, no longer hair.
I stuck my hoof through, and nothing was there.
Fear was rampant through our conjoined mind.
How did this happen? What good was this find?
The bright crystals around were constructed in stairs
that ran right on up, almost attached by air
and as we looked up, the light high above
shined brightly as crystals, crystals crafted with love.
Slowly and steadily, we moved our large hooves
up those weak structured stairs, keeping aloof moves.
Upward I traveled, the stallion now slipping
as I felt my own anger on my internal record skipping.
What had I done to deserve this dread fate?
As far as I knew, things had always been straight
with me every day, every night, every crystal
was researched without damage, and clean as a whistle.
Halfway up the stairs and stomped my hoof down
and stared back with my heart in my misery's drown.
I felt my horn sputter as a felt my anger grow,
and wished for others to face fears that they've never known.
If those ponies so chose to come down this path,
then a door at the bottom would conceal my intended wrath!
Seeing the act of my own personal rage
was a pleasure, a treasure, a whole brand-new page
in the story of myself that I wanted to turn
into a story of a stallion who had a match to burn.
I felt my body move back up those stairs,
no longer shouting my unusual cares.
I feel that the stallion still hiding within
never wanted that door, that it was a sin.
For other ponies to face down what they most feared
was worse of a torture than this shell so adhered.
This body, this shell, this vessel of greed
was revealed after my ascension and one untoward deed.
Returning in the throne room of the palace king
was a challenge to explain with the color-coated swing.
A small servant colt with tray and half-glass
stared right at me in the door, looking feverish and crass.
I felt his cold gaze from half of the room
When I turned to face him, it was as if Death loomed.
Now, what happened was as foggy as I:
a crackle, a thwack, a sob, a loud cry.
There were stains on the floor, my hoof, the door.
A maid, quite nearby, was screaming from gore.
I dared not look down, but felt from my eye
the most odd sensation as I walked on by.
The crystals the stallion had studied before
were now dazzling, enlightening, and I wanted more.
They stood in place, but somehow they could dance,
dance forever and ever in my own wide expanse;
I felt myself spin with my desires in tow.
Nothing else then was real; I wanted that glow.
The maid ran off left as I ran off right,
and I soon realized my legs gained a new kind of might.
I galloped steadily ahead and with a jerk,
I flew down a hallway with a middle-mouthed smirk.
I soon ran back outside near the old Crystal Heart.
Seeing it spinning, spinning . . . just dancing, that heart.
I feel the stallion within me always loved that heart before.
Loved the spin, the motion, the lore
of how it was once the heart of a king
who wanted ponies to smile more than anything.
On the verge of his death, he tore out his heart,
and soon the kingdom, it became a part.
I felt my lips wet, my eyes narrow, stomach growl.
I wanted that heart within my sharp jowl.
I took a few steps before I felt a sharp stare.
The maid, now nearby, yelled out " You're going nowhere!
I alerted the king, and you'll soon be gone!
Now begone from this land, you dark, Changeling spawn!"
Spawn of a heartless? I felt misery creep.
Begone from my homeland? That arrow struck deep
into my anger, my strife, my heart, mind, soul.
I felt it strike pride . . . my pride, she had stole!
The wench I soon grabbed with the edge of my magic
had a look on her muzzle which may have looked tragic.
The stallion, the good hearted pony, found beneath this shell . . .
he was yelling with me, wanting to expel
my presence and tone, my danger and voice.
" Spare her her life! Give her a choice!"
So, I gave her a choice: it was leave now, or die.
She made her choice, but her filly? She cried.
That filly, that filly, that foal wouldn't cease!
That crying, that crying, my rage did increase.
I grabbed that indigo filly in one heavy swoop,
and suddenly with it her ears did droop
and her sparkling green eyes suddenly did pale,
her shiny coat died along with her wale.
The crowd that had gathered and witnessed the scene
of the maid, the filly's mother, and this now obscene
unicorn stallion with mane, tail so black
would have given even strong stallions heavy heart attacks.
Ponies backed up as the filly did creak,
and as some pony screamed, I turned to her without a squeak.
The crystallized portioned of skin and of tone,
right down to the pearly-white crystallized bone
was turning pure black, making the young pony moan.
The bright, beauty, complexion before that had shone?
Now was replaced by the near death-filled groan
and gray-black expanse of what looked just like stone.
The crowd from before was now stepping back,
the guards no longer taking their chance to attack.
Their eyes welled up with terror and dread,
horrors beginning to fill up their heads
over what I might do them as I did
to the poor little filly beneath my hoof's grid.
I just tossed her aside and ignored the inner self
and place hoof after hoof on my narrow walking shelf.
The ponies before me soon scattered with fear,
screaming and hollering out for life dear.
The stallion had faded, the old Somber was done.
Some pony yelled " Sombra" . . . my new reign had begun.
I loved every second of horror and fear.
Loved spreading it every time I was ever near
their pathetic pony faces, my own crystal slaves.
Not one protested, not many were brave
to stand up to me, and kept it that way.
They all were soon chained, then worked night and day.
I crowned myself their new expanse King,
" King Sombra, King Sombra" they would chant with a cling
and a clang of their chains waving both to and fro.
I loved seeing them bow, oh it pleased me so.
For once I was loved, even if done with force.
Despite all the technicals, I enjoyed it of course.
All I wanted was those crystal eyes
to pour their sadness into mine;
for them to feel what I felt,
the pain that I suffered, the cards I was dealt.
Each crystal they found went into piles
I organized myself in rows and in aisles.
Everyday was a challenge with ponies of all age.
It took most of my strength to maintain my own rage:
" Topaz just means yellow! Keep away from your mother!"
Every day was intense, and one after another
those ponies of crystallize coats soon grew dim,
despondent, maltreated and grim.
Those fiery crystal ponies I remember always seeing
from one to another, they were always entreating
each other to company, sweet times, and pleasure.
Their company was something I had wanted to treasure.
Now they were cowering, cowardly, trapped in my maw.
Now there was no chance for mockery or guffaw.
And the Crystal Heart? The kingdom center piece?
I soon realized those ponies would never cease
their rebellions, or attempts to try and be free
as long as the heart remained where it should be.
So, to protect my empire from fear of despair,
I placed the heart in the heart of the air.
And so, for years after, my Crystal slaves
and I lived on with the empire's days.
The crystals around turned as gray as my skin.
The coats of my slaves made them now look like my kin.
I never heard a peep from my other half;
until the day that made him, oddly, laugh.
That day when the skies above the empire parted
and two figures flew in and swiftly they darted;
The ponies below were screaming with awe,
as the figure flapped open its wings without flaw.
Her coat was pure white, her younger sister's was blue.
Her feathers were preened . . . I felt my heart split in two.
No longer did precious gems seem to fill the void.
This gentle, exquisite pony was far more employed
to spend her life with the king of all dark.
I felt my heart race with each flap and leg arc.
With a gaping maw and sight of all Equestria,
the pony then yelled," Fear me not, I am Celestia!"
Celestia, oh, Celestia, even her name
gives credit and clause to her own sin-inspired fame.
I remember her face, oh her heavenly face . . .
She had a pastel mane and tail, and wings, her own race
would have been the angels themselves if they gave her the pace
to travel with them within Heaven's given space.
Upon seeing this heavenly angel descend,
I stood from my throne and felt my heart end.
It restarted quite fast; no panic had to encroach.
as she began to come closer, appear, approach.
I neared the ledge and placed a hoof over.
For the first time in ages, I soon smelled sweet clover.
Seeing the gaze on her face was a blow to the chest:
she clearly meant business, and did not want to rest.
Her sister had vanished; I think her name was Luna.
But no part of her was I interested in, for I wanted to be part of a
heavenly being, her sister of course.
Her heart must have been the crystal's glowing source.
I passed through the throne room as a small chuckle came loose.
I paused my four hooves and began to deduce
the source of the laugh. But to no clear avail.
I galloped ahead, leaving my whispy trail.
The laughter still echoed deep within my mind.
To what phantom was giving me this deed unkind?
I met her (and her sister) beneath the empire's castle.
Meeting them halfway would have left too much hassle.
Seeing the radiant and fair princess
left my heart in a racetrack and my lungs breath-less.
I kept composure as the laughter inside
continued to expand, and all side noises died.
Their voices were blurred, and still are as I recall.
I know not what they said, what led to our brawl.
I felt my smile creep up as dark shards broke free.
They would have attacked the two royals, in theory.
They would be driven away, the crystal ponies would be mine.
The crystals, the love, everything would be just fine.
But something went wrong . . . horribly awry.
The dark shards were glowing with an odd battle cry.
Bright lights invaded the crystals' expanse,
changing their color, their texture, their dance!
I wanted to scream, stomp, yell, explode!
I sent beams of my crystals to the demons to implode.
I expected to hear begging and hollering for mercy,
but instead of all of that, I gained this heresy;
Somehow they deflected the power of my rage,
now surrounded by light and the light's peaceful stage.
Their unicorn horns glowed bright yellow, blue,
then fired dead ahead . . . the laughter continued.
" The mighty King Sombra . . . now reduced to a gem."
" OH silence, you foal, you and I are both condemned."
" I shall say what I want, you belligerent devil!
As Somber the Second, give me the level
to give my view on this chain of events!"
" Alright, go ahead and place your two cents . . . "
" Wait, what gives you the right to give me your spiel?"
" You never understood until now what I feel!"
" What feeling would you so possibly possess?!
Always, always, you have been a mess!"
" Yes, but now, I feel just as free as a bird."
" Ohoho, so it was your laughter heard . . . "
" Yes, back on the balcony, and in the battle, indeed."
" Well, Somber, dear friend, why have this impede?
Surely within that battle we'd succeed!"
" Princesses and false kings are two far different creed,
and you, King Sombra, are not of their breed.
You would have failed; of this, we must have agreed."
" I would prefer to see it as a blending of lines."
" Oh for Equestria's sake, you wanted good times!
You want what I want, and nothing more so or less!
You and I both know that we're the same type of mess!"
" That is one title I shall NOT accept!"
" Well then, Sombra, how do you feel of the crypt?"
It was not until after our heated argument
that I realized both our words were now totally spent.
The darkness around was now surprisingly dank.
It was filled with smoke, and clouded, like smog in a tank.
When I found it was my body that was now this cloud,
I let loose a scream, out of the ground and out loud.
For over a century now, I have lain beneath ice.
These crystals don't dance, they have no zest or spice.
There's no soul in these crystals, no color aside
from the color of my smoke that they take to their side.
These crystals never melt, neither shape is the same;
perhaps some new time can be spent with a snow game.
Boredom is the enemy within my cold prison cell.
I have too soon run out of stories for myself to tell.
The crystals have grown dull with each passing day . . .
or second, or hour; I cannot tell anyway.
I wish to claw my eyes out, and from boredom break away . . .
I only hope and pray some pony else feels this way.
Somber is now silent within my stone cold mind,
somewhere dormant, somewhere lost, somewhere I could not find.
But, the reason for his laughter? The deceit and conceit?
Perhaps it was of my imminent defeat.
Perhaps he foresaw it and felt his laughter creep . . .
and the laughter and our talk soon lulled him off to sleep.
Occasionally I feel what he does beneath this ice:
wishes for sun, for company, for something nice.
A new life of purity, a new life to be free.
A family up there awaiting me.
A mare, a filly, a foal and a dog . . .
I feel crazy just saying so, but I wish I weren't wrong.
Was a true stallion ever present within this Crystal shell?
Once well-kept, once alive, with a real story to tell?
I feel a heart still beats within this Crystal chest,
but do I still have right to claim it, to possess
what other ponies feel? What they always strain?
What they call emotions, what they call pain?
