The unhappy unicorn

The unicorn. She is an old friend of mine. Many of her kind were slaughtered for they were closer to the heavens. They refused to fight for the potential of there power were far more destructive than the bitter races. After a few centuries only a few  unicorns remained, who stayed in solitude and had succumbed to a bitter fate of jealousy bestowed in hatred. She knew about impaling through flesh and skin after she had taken enough from others. I heard she killed so many that she now stood tall and her front legs began to resemble arms as a humans. Her beautiful face morphed into something resembling the face of a crippled goat. Where once in awe of her beauty mortals would now run in fear and any others would hold their faces down with great shame and regret, their tears would lead there eyes to suicide, there guilt would never allow them love now. For once she was worthy of heaven. Though it was all of our selfish desire to be better than her and our inability to be as sacred, pure and beautiful as she, that tore her sole apart and bruised her love and her body in the first place.