I dreamed a dream of fear last night,
And never felt the sun.
It filled my stony heart with fright,
But ne'er did I run.
Diane saw me, I saw her too,
But it wasn't very fun.
She threatened to devour you,
And me, and everyone.
My dreams are not my own, my friend,
And neither yours for you.
There is a sleeper in us all,
But her dreams are few.
So she dreams in all of us,
And makes us to believe,
That we have lives of our own,
To wake, to live, to dream.
And now the Terror's Dream is ending,
And with it end ourselves.
And now, without further ado,
I'm off to kill myself.
Farewell.
I have made it to Ponyville. That poem was the last thing written in the book.
Something is terribly, terribly wrong.
Ah, more of this is always welcome, even if the pit in my stomach is telling me that reading it will assure my doom. Well, we all have to go sometime. I see no reason not to welcome an interesting end.
This is getting 2spooky4me
dun dun duuuuun
This is absolutely interesting. Are you still alive? I hope so. I want to know where the magic comes from - even if it kills me.
Maybe it's foalish, maybe it's reckless. But I believe in truth.
Also, I'm dead curious now.
This is some crazy crap man! Best of luck to you on your journey m$.