Years after our world was destroyed, we have thrived. We have prospered. Ponies have lost the ability to obtain cutie marks, so we artifically create marks. When I turn thirteen, I will get marked, and in turn gain freedom. But the Union lies.
As the light succumbs to the darkness at night, I succumb with it. (Formerly I-am-a-Nightmare. All of my old stories I literally did when I was 12. Please don't judge me)