The creation of some god for its child,
Really just a puppet with neither skin nor hide.
Inanimate and born to serve and make one laugh,
Or animate and made with too much breath?
Its maker, whether god or creator or none,
One day simply happens to be gone.

Can something die that can not rot?
Maybe it will once you forgot.
This puppet will sooner or later find out,
In the land of Equestria, what its existence is about.

Now I must say, with great dismay,
That it will be time,
For the pen to lay,
And to end this rhyme.

This is just, likely, very confusing story. It will be about a puppet, of sorts, made by some magical being, which may or may not be alive, being forgotten until it comes to Equestria and lots of scenarios happen.
The reason for its confusion is mostly the fact that it was entirely thought up while I was quite sick (probably the flu, certainly not any very popular recent virus) and lying in bed.

After building so much trust for her, his apprentice takes the potion he is meant to guard. Though she does not realize how much of a curse the potion is to those who are foolish enough to take it, the main issue is that his heart is broken. Not simply in the metaphorical sense, but also in the "blasted out" kind of way. Forgiveness does not seem like an option, but revenge may also be quite hard to accomplish.

Real:
So...I have never written a story. And I rarely dream, which may be from the fact that I think so much before I fall asleep. A few nights ago, I just wanted to sleep, so I couldn't really think of anything before dozing off. Aaanyways, I dreamt this up, but decided to just go write it down, I hope it doesn't suck too much. And it likely will just stay as a single page.