Shadows are screams of whispered secretsShadows are screams of whispered secrets.They do not make a sound,Yet they speak volumes.They can tell you anything,You just have to listen close enough.If you do not however,Then secrets will remain secret,And no one will ever know.
Remember them please.Remember those who died over seasRemember them pleaseThey died with a nameBut that we are unable to reclaimThey died with oneWe brought back their gunBut not a nameSo we give them fameNo one should be buried without a nameThat is too great a shameBut we can`t help itI`m sad to admitSo remember those who died over seasRemember them pleaseThose who were buried without a nameAnd those we were unable to reclaim
My Sweet MoonMy moon, my sweet moonLook at you so high up in the skyLike a pearl in the black oceanSo preciousMy moon, my sweet moonShinning brightClouds cover you like a blanketSo mesmerizingMy moon, my sweet moonI love to gaze upon youQuiet like a hushed whisperSo silent
Fortune DaysA crowd of people stop and turn towards a growing noise. Coming over the hill there is a group of people dressed in black with white featureless masks playing the drums.Walking down the road they do not do anything besides walk and play. Some people stop and stare in awe while others hurry their children away. As the drummers reach an intersection they are met with other drummers all wearing the same mask and black clothes. Growing larger and larger until they become a small army. All perfectly in sync with one another. All heading in the same direction, the capital. Now the sound of the drums matches that of thunder, echoing off the sky scrapers and other buildings. When they reach the front of the capital building, all at once they stop. Never such an eerie silence has been heard. The guards nervous and the president in a state of disbelief.Standing there, hundreds of anonymous people, one by one they start up again, the same tune as before. Slowly people start to gather, some wear
Project: Friendship (Prolouge)A heavy fog covers the surrounding area like a thick moist blanket, corpses are scattered across the ground. The outcome of a grim battle. In the fog there is a ruined castle, ponies bustling about picking up bodies and clearing rubble. There is a small group of ponies standing in the corner as to not get in the way of the clean up. Those seven ponies stand in silence, beaten and bruised from the fight against the deadites."So what`s going to happen now?" A brown pony with a metal leg asks; a tone of sadness in his voice."Were going home, and everything will be back to normal," A white pony replies."How can it, after this?" the brown pony asked, motioning with his head towards the aftermath."I don't know, but all of you will be going home soon," Said the white pony.At that all the ponies looked up at the white pony, most had a look of relief in their eyes. But a black alicorn had sadness in his eyes. It seemed as if he didn't want to return to his world. The white pony with brown