Purple Vanilla

Blood filled the room,
Thus drownding it's inhabitants.
there was a common fear on the fair groungs,
But all was gay.
Dismay filled the small, wittless people,
Fore there was no room for evidence.
Screaming insanity, eyes watched.
Laughter filled the air as they all fell,
Down.
His eyes were a beautiful blue,
The colour of a lost sky.
Purple Vanilla.
Wings made of bronze made him fly.
He was angry.
The people kept him in a cage.
He was hurt,
But he would fly far away,
And make for himself an name.
Naked...
Alone...
They laughed at their stupidity,
Only the fearful feared them,
Because they all laughed.
Emotonless virgins of sodomy,
They slew their violinist.
He cried over things lost.
Blue eyes sought wrath,
The bleeding violinist lay bleeding before him.
He kissed bloodied lips in hate.
"Sing for me!" the bird cried.
And the violinist sang a song.
Of joy,
Of hate,
Of freedoms.
And then the mask fell to the ground.
Then the virgins went away,
To play childish tricks and games.
Once more the people loved them.
He was nothing to fear.
But...
Were they wrong?
They laughed at their doubts,
And went to their carnivals.
Te carnivals that never sought to end.
The three-headed dog bellowed.
A winged horse cried out.
And the dead violinist sand his song with joy.
But the bule-eyed man with bronze wings was saddened.
The people found joy in his suffering.
Sphinx danced her way to the ferris wheel,
Laughing like all the people.
A delicious blue was driped over his body,
It brought out his eyes.
He fought the laughter,
Fought the prolounged gazes.
"Come see the bird-man, king of all the beasts!"
Then he flew away.
He went to make a name for himself,
Singing the dead violinist's song.
Only to find he had no name to give himself,
Because there isn't always a happy ending.