Disclaimer: This review is only relevant in the context of Adults watching MLP, not children. The show is great for its actual target audience.

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Isaiah 16:11 kjv
“Wherefore my bowels shall sound like a harp for Moab, and mine inward parts for Kirharesh.”

SPOILER: It was Rarity. Rarity was phone.

Enter Twilight, a phone ringing in the background.

Twilight: I better go pick up the phone. Twilight picks up the phone.

Rarity(on the other end of the phone): Hello, Twilight.

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If it's true that the bell tolls for thee
Then the death of other people is a semicolon;
It's a pause but not an end—
A clause that does not rescind
Anything that is to be said after it; however,
It forces you to stop for a moment and think:
"Maybe this isn't over," then realize
That if other people's deaths are a semicolon
Then yours must be a full stop, because life
Is just one big run-on sentence.

Imagine flying:
Heights are terrifying—
I fainted.
This elegy to my syncope
I write where I crashed in the raging sea;
Now I sit here.
I'm on the planes wing drifting—
Going nowhere.

A cat climbs a tree
And he thinks himself cunning.
He wants to catch birds.

So he climbs higher,
Not thinking birds will see him.
He's invisible.

The cat's reasoning?
Birds taste better than cat food
Almost all the time.

The tree trunk splits off—
He has to climb the branches.
He's not good at that.

Yet his mind is blank;
Bird meat is more important
Than one's climbing skills.

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You know what they do to guys like us in prison:
Their minds toil in vile, toxin, hatred, and fires—
They stalk us like shadows, and hell will be risen
When the last of them are left damned by the Friars.
In prison, every man is an architect of his own;
He drafts, molds, and raises the life in his fists.
Neither they nor us can avoid, alleviate, or atone

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I once knew a boy we called Johnny.
He was sort of a bum, a slacker in school
Who always had a Macaw on his shoulder.
Little did we know he was about to grow bolder.

You see, Johnny was never one for working—
Everybody said he wouldn't make it.
He lived for himself, none else, a breathing half-ass,
It was a wonder at all how he ever passed.

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