Evil Bunnies’ Infernal Jest
In the core of midnight, where the grass bows low,A coven of innocence glimmers, arranged in rows.They clutch the myth of harmlessness—fur so clean,Yet in those orbs of sable, a lurid, leaping sheen.The world’s defenses falter at the shimmer of their fluff,Unwary hearts, seduced by softness, find that gentle isn’t enough.
A thousand children’s stories paint them holy, sweet, and mild,But the fable rots behind the scenes—here, malice smiles as a child.For every twitch of whisker writes a line of hidden threat,And every bounce upon the earth leaves shadows darker yet.No predator howls their coming, no thunder marks their path,Just the purr of grass and silent laughs—then carnage dressed as wrath.
Their exteriors—plush, inviting—mask a script of doom,Where innocence is weaponized and daisies are the tomb.They hop between the rhubarb leaves, by moon and burning hedge,With every leap a silent pact, the darkness cracks its edge.Who knows what stirs behind those eyes, what memories ignite?A million secrets flicker there, reflected in the night.
Let warnings ride on autumn wind to every door and den—It’s not the wolf who gnaws the bone, but bunnies in their pen.A gentle touch, a nuzzle’s peace, belies the cruelest jest:A devil’s heart beats quietest in fluff against the chest.When morning breaks on cindered fields, the lesson’s fiercely earned—That innocence, when weaponized, is never simply spurned.
So trust not smiles in trembling grass, nor pause for paws so sweet;For every snare is sugar-dipped, each ambush soft and neat.The world may laugh at warnings, scoff at nightmares clothed in fur,But darkness often chooses hosts the careless would prefer.And as the flames begin to rise, remember how you guessed—It wasn’t wolves or monsters there, but bunnies’ infernal jest.