When do we know that we've lost something? Is it after we've spent all of our days trying to earn our keep, only to have all that's special to us taken away before our eyes? Or is it after we've claimed something, only to have somepony else steal it from us? Does a life of pride and hard work equate to pure agony when all of that effort is lain to ruin?
My name is Lyra Heartstrings, and you will not remember me. You won't even remember this conversation. Just like with everypony else I've ever met, everything I do or say will be forgotten. Every letter I've written will appear blank; every piece of evidence I've left behind will end up missing. I'm stuck here in Ponyville because of the same curse that has made me so forgettable. Still, that doesn't stop me from doing the one thing that I love: making music. If my melodies find their way into your heart, then there is still hope for me. If I can't prove that I exist, I can at least prove that my love for each and every one of you exists. Please, listen to my story, my symphony, for it is me.
No reviews yet — be the first to write one from the Log screen.
No quotes yet.
