Fables of La Source ✓

The pony who wanted to be an unicorn

In a faraway land,

Where dragons and pegasi grazed on hay so grand,

A unicorn stood tall to fight the wrong

Whenever it appeared, however long,

Or at least in the imagination's vast array

Of a pony who fed on dreams each day.

Dreamlike landscapes he did prefer

To the dull, bleak reality of his pasture.

One day, while chasing frogs at play,

He found a stick, like a spindle in its way.

Thus, he tried to fix it to his mane,

But it fell to the ground again and again.

Tired of his many tries,

He decided to let it go with sighs,

Yet just as he dropped the stick with a groan,

Another pony bumped him, unknown,

And the stick ended up in his nose,

Causing pain and anger that rose.

He pushed it out in haste,

His snout sore from the misplaced,

Feeling the injustice of this affair,

With pain and frustration in the air.

Nevertheless, little Pony resolved to see,

A unicorn he would become, surely,

Whatever might come his way,

Determined he was, come what may.

The stick not only hurt his nose but also his mind,

In his senseless quest, it made him blind.

All day long he searched around,

For what might become his horn, profound.

Night finally fell,

And careless little Pony still,

Continued his foolish quest,

Wandering far from his nest.

In the dark, a wolf did creep,

Seeing little Pony, decided to feast.

He approached the negligent pony,

Eyeing him hungrily.

And just like in the old song's jest,

Little Pony was swallowed whole, no jest.

(Yes, it's an anachronism,

But does it matter in pure sadism?)

Dear readers, if you have your head too high,

Reality will give you a slap on the face, oh my.

Célestin de La Source