//------------------------------//
// With Unicorn Horns 
// Story: And That's What Ponies Are Made Of 
// by canonkiller 
//------------------------------//

The other fillies said I was ugly,
You whispered.
I took the brush from your mane,
And the ribbons from the mantel,
And asked why on earth you believed them.

Because ponies can't lie,
Or at least that's what you told me,
And if they cannot lie,
Then they are telling the truth.

I told you that it was very smart of you
And all the other pretty things I always said
When you looked at your hooves
And would not look at me.

But smart isn't pretty,
You would say,
Your little voice so full of hurt and remorse
That it seemed you were older inside.

Your teacher said you were gifted.
I would say back,
Taking back up all the products and bows
That would take to your mane like leeches to blood
Until your confidence was in the ribbons and not in yourself.

But gifted isn't pretty,
You would insist, 
And you would take the ribbons from me
With your sparkling magic
And tear them up
Like you always did

How dare you,
I would yell,
Those were expensive and go to your room,
And you would,
Not shedding a tear,
For the day you broke to me
Would be the day you died.

And when I had gathered the fragments
Of your artificial beauty,
And thrown them out,
I pulled my own ribbons out of my hair,
And gently let it fall
Until it was natural

Not normal,
But natural,
And I would take a deep breath 
And I would follow you.

I always found you in the same place.

Sitting, on your haunches,
In a circle of mess
Of your own creation,
With dresses and fancy jewels spread over the floor.

And like every time,
You would move away as I sat down beside you,
And would not answer me,
Even when I used the prettiest words.

You were too smart for the words, so I tried something different.
I took the nearest dress, one that you always hated,
And I put it on. 

You were a growing filly, and I was a small mare.
It fit me well enough, so I looked down at you,
And I asked;
Does wearing this make me you?

You did not speak, but you shook your head.
I took the dress off, and wore another.
How about this one?
Surely I must be you if I am wearing something of yours.

Another shake.
I took off the dress and picked you up,
Holding you close to me
And hoping-dreaming-wishing that you would hear my words.

I said,
Wearing your things does not make me you.
Wearing ugly things does not make you ugly.
Wearing pretty things does not make you pretty.

The truly pretty people can wear the ugliest clothes,
And the truly ugly can wear the prettiest. 
Your skin is not your soul,
And what others see is not you.

It can become you, if you let it,
If you take their ugly words and let them in;
But you are beautiful because I love you,
And because others love you,
And because even if you were to feel alone,
Someone out there would miss you.

Nobody misses me, you muttered.
I pulled you tighter, and said you were wrong.
If nobody missed you, why does the bright sun disappear
When you fall asleep?
If nobody missed you,
Would the stars guide your dreams and make you believe?

Would the world be bright and beautiful when you were gone?
Or would there be nothing but darkness and dust
Because you were wrong?
And trust me my love, for it's true.

My beauty only comes from me
loving you.