Work Text:
The city of Bismark, a deep maze of pink
Abundant in books to make the mind think
The city was brought to life and was stirred
From the wings of Japhet, the great fire bird
His subjects he loved more than he’d say
Giving them gifts and theme parks to play
Yet they feared what he gave, fearing the worst
Acting as if the great bird were cursed
Feeling exiled, betrayed, and annoyed
The zone he had raised he would grow to avoid
He soon found a home in the old guardian’s kin
Believing respect he’d finally win
Yet the workers ignored him wherever he were
Not minding his kneading, meowing, and purr
He threatened and killed doing all that he could
Convincing himself that his heart was still good
He moved to the library, his one last reserve
Hearing he’d soon get what he deserved
So he paced and he waited for the Batter to come
For deep in his heart he knew he was wrong.