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The Autobiography of Scootaloo - ForewordHello, dear reader. My name is Amber Dash, I am the daughter of a wonderful mother, Scootaloo, and a loving father, Featherweight. Upon the passing of my mother, I was willed her diary. She had it for most of her life, and filled it with entries of her everyday and her adventures. The text is slightly abridged to keep pace, removing only short common entries, but I assure you that you are only missing things such as "went to the store" and "nothing interesting happened today" or the most basic of mundanities. I assure you that I have left the story of my mother as in tact as possible. I want the world to know of how wonderful my mother was.
I appreciate you taking the time to look into the life of a mare who was there for me in my hardest times. My mother lived a good life, all things considered, though she, like all of us, had her struggles along the way. Her story here begins when she was nine, coping with the struggles of losing her parents. I may have never been able to meet my gra
SPD - Entries 344-348 *body image trigger warning*Entry 343:
Featherweight is still unsure of his father being in a new relationship. I finally put him in a headlock and shook some sense into him when he said his dad should have never found him. I was so mad it's a wonder I didn't knock him out. The nerve. I think I really freaked him out, because he was quiet for quite a while. I didn't want him to think I didn't want him to talk about what was going on, so I eventually asked why he was being so ridiculous.
He said more than anything right now he feels guilty. He said he feels like a real mule for being upset about his dad doing something for himself. He said Shutter Speed almost never does things for himself. He's always worried about Featherweight, and the fact that Featherweight acted so selfishly has him feeling rotten. I told Featherweight that what was happening right now was a life-changing event for everypony involved, and that he has a right to be worried, but he has to give his dad the room to live his life.
Then I told him
TunnelvisionIn this crippled, cracked cityscape of concrete and glass
I just watch from my window as the people walk by
Oblivious to the struggles of their fellow public,
Such as Eric, frantically searching for cash to get back his pick up
That his friend left double parked and resulted in a tow
Losing his job may as well be deathrow for his son
Andy's leukemia treatment cost is astronomical
The fear in Eric's mind digs a festering hole
In his heart as he goes for a payday loan
Knowing the debt will do nothing
But throw more obstacles
In the path of his escape from this fiscal hell
Established by coats who can't even tell the kind of
Destruction they've left on this man and child,
Their hearts are hardened and their wallets are padded,
With green like the weeds breaking through the sidewalk
As Eric signs the four hundred percent interest agreement,
No other choice
While businessmen in their highrises hold
No remorse for the rejected insurance claim
No sympathy to share for the man whose wife, the
Entries 337-42Entry 337:
The new year is here! I spent the night with Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom in the clubhouse. Several of our other friends were over until the new year began. Big Mac and Applejack walked everypony else home. Over the rest of the night we found out that we aren't drummers (although I still think I did a pretty good job. Sweetie Belle couldn't understand what I was saying afterwards, though. Maybe I was too loud?)
It's been a pretty slow couple of weeks. Class starts again, soon. I'm kind of ready to go back, but I still wish I could spend more time with Featherweight, he's still having troubles dealing with his dad's relationship. He's handling it better, but he's still nervous about becoming second colt. I've told him so many times that he's ridiculous, but he's just, well, Featherweight.
I sat next to Featherweight during class on the first day back. I didn't want him to think that things would be different just because class has started again. He seems a bit, I don't know,
Anything Will Do"Got any change?"
She asks, as you pass, clenching wallet in a guarded stance--lest you have to give your poker night spares to a nearly starved woman.
"Got any change?"
She pleads, groveling to the masses, staring desperately to her dog, sole companion of the scot-free foreclosure market that stole her, and her only friend's, home.
"Got any change?"
She cries. "I'll work for whatever you can give."
Nobody will hire the woman who can't pay her bills post-layoff in the scot-free we-don't-need-you-anymore factory, whose robots work harder and complain less than mere mortals.
"Got any change?" She pleads, not asking for cash--demanding action.
"Is your life any better?"
She rises from her defeated pose--A vigor in her heart carrying her starved body to its frail feet.
"Change. Stand for good enough no more.
Since when is good enough good enough?
Since when is just fine fine at all?
Since when is just getting by acceptable?
I'm not the only one who needs change around here."
A Lot To Be Thankful ForI've come a long way in life.
Once upon a time I was little more than a child,
son to two loving parents,
a thing I am always thankful for,
even if it doesn't always show.
Since then, a small handful of amazing friends
show me that love can extend beyond blood
Friends who show me true kindness, loyalty and trust
A relatively new gift, in many ways,
but absolutely glorious, and something to cherish.
I'm happy to be born in a place where, even if it's dubious,
I do have freedoms, I do have rights, I can safely
walk out of my door, and not fear getting shot.
A place where medicine may not be free, but it actually exists.
I'm glad I have a fully functioning body, and fully capable mind.
I have the golden ticket. I have a stable family, health, mind, and home.
I have little in the big scope to complain about.
While these are the greatest gifts one can experience,
There is a lot in life to be thankful for.
I live in a place that has come a long way. It may not be perfect
But compared to twen
when you find yourself
in a crowd of familiar faces,
the struggle for breath
You Will PayI can taste the fear upon you:
The cold sweat in your palms,
The eyes that dart at shadows,
And the lips that are forced into a tightened smile.
You wait beneath the blankets,
Shivering each night as the anxiety rises.
You gasp at the slightest sounds and quiver...
For you are afraid of the curse that comes.
In your mind you see what you have done to me.
You watched as you ripped my tongue
And stole the very voice from my soul!
But even if I am without a body,
Even if I can no longer hold a knife to your throat.
Fear alone is enough for me to silence you,
And I will NEVER allow you to be heard!
To The HeroesJustice?
I'm not sure you know what that means.
To you the very word of "justice" suggests that:
Those who do not comply are simply targets to be broken.
Those who do not agree with you, must always be denied.
Those who have the greatest freedom are chained and made to kneel.
And those who choose to fight are labeled 'incarnates of evil'.
Doesn't it all sound a little familiar?
I think it does...
So tell me, oh great hero,
Having fought monsters like me for so many years...
How does it feel to have finally become one?
Inner DemonI harbour a monster,
It lingers deep within.
It wants to escape me,
To tear free from my skin.
It gnaws at my insides,
And hopes that I'll give in.
It works hard to tempt me,
To lead me into sin.
It wants me to suffer
To feel its wretched sting.
But I stand true and strong,
I will not let it win.
The nights are the hardest,
In bed I pray and sing
To the Lord God above
To rid me of this thing.
But instead it remains,
My monster still within.
MazeLost within myself
Looking for a way out
This cannot end like this
Trapped in my own mind
A maze with no exit
I keep running and running
But I always end up
In the same place where I began
RustThe dwelling rust
swells this hollow garden
and somewhere in the yard
a tire swing goes flat
against the skyline.
It chokes the autumn light
in the silo,
the crush of
mums and ragged berries
It bubbles in the percolator
steeping still life
in the caul
of early morning -
the red-brown crumbs
of breakfast toast and jam
growing ghosts upon
And deep inside
I still hear you waking up
the soft salute
of morning voices
stirring the wind
outside my window.
Red Light ReduxHaving a truck
Paint me red
Is the strangest feeling
I’ve ever felt.
I’ve seen myself melt away
Like a mid-summer’s ice cream
While my personality screams
To be noticed. Every wall that once
Stood between me and reality
I am finally free.
Until they strapped me down
And sewed back my hands to my head.
My heart to my mouth.
My legs to the earth.
The taste of freedom
Rests gently on my tongue,
And I’ve been trying
To no avail.
Poem promptThe sky is not falling
We are rising.
As time marches forward
We make some terrible mistakes where the sky seems to creep further out of reach
Yet over time we get back to our feet
We, as people
We are rising up
Making this world a better place
It has taken us a long time to see some of the mistakes of our past
But now that we do, we can make things better
Step by step.
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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