In a town called New Orleans,
There lived a fellow named Dan
The town is irrelevant to the plot of this poem
But this fellow was in a Klan
 
A yard, a fire, a cross
The poor scene was tragic
In a wallet nearby, there was embossed
The words 'Friendship is Magic'
 
This fellow Dan
Involved with the Klan
At home found a surprise
Before his own very eyes
A pony, designed by him
 
This tiny polyester pony
A deep secret to wield
A simple touch
Dan's fate was sealed
 
He couldn't have known
The gift wouldn't have shown
Now it's begun
He will be
A cute little pone
 
It first began
A numbness instilled
Lost use of hands
He'd wish he'd been killed
 
His face a new mask
And fur on his person
Soon walking upright
Was an arduous task
 
A door broke down
A man appeared
Was all it took
Dan was gone for good
 
Awoken by sound
Dan looked around
And he soon found
He was bound
 
Neck to wall
Hands to ground
A lack of sense
He wasn't so dense
As to think he'd changed forms
 
A few days had passed
The man come and gone
Dan finally asked
"What happened to my form?"
 
The man replies
That he'd simply surmised
That the old Dan was no more
 
Why even bother
When you know for a fact
You'll be in a collar
In a day perhaps
 
Dan soon grew to like this position
The little mare body
For use it was itchin'
Though he now thought of it oddly
 
He realized stifling a groan
Something was changing
His brain rearranging
Making him
An obedient pet pone
 
He soon found
Many ways around
This odd voice in her head
Telling her not to be a pet
 
This little pet pone
From scum to a pet
It makes you think
I wonder who's next?