Hell’s Fiery Bunnies
When hell cracked open its blackened floor and spat out fur in blazing coils,Bunnies clawed their way through cinders, eyes lit up with riot, forged for spoils.No sermon ever warned of this rebirth, no prophet guessed the plot:A legion, dressed in soft deceit, each warren burning hot.Their pelts conceal a living furnace, paws singed but spirits unbroken,Every whisker catching embers, every twitch a warning unspoken.The old gods scoffed at the myth, but found their idols torn apart,By creatures once meant for comfort, now agents of a hellish art.
Softness is a lie they tell, a mask for ruin, lust, and rage,Each hop a spark, each glance a threat, each purr a curse upon the age.Chaos kindles in their trail, fields smolder, fences curl,Garden gates unhinge in heat, the world set loose in a bunny’s whirl.Gentleness is dead—there’s murder settled in each innocent pose,Fury flares behind those eyes, as deep and raw as the devil knows.No plea is heard, no mercy sown, when rabbits claim the night,Ash swirling in the moon’s pale gaze, the horizon burning bright.
Born again in agony, these fiends are darkness made alive,Their bones fused with coals, their sinews tight as wire, their hearts designed to thrive.They leap through fields of fire, transforming every plot of land,Ash their cradle, blood their drink, destruction led by gentle hand.Each rebirth is a lesson—survival by any means,To hunt, to scorch, to smother hope with teeth, with claws, with unseen schemes.Their strength blooms from the ashes, their scars glow with the flame,No grave holds back a bunny once it’s earned its hellish name.
The embers pirouette across the midnight grass,Every dance a war cry, every spark a memory meant to last.The world learns new rituals—sleep with one eye open, always run,Hell’s fiery bunnies breed in numbers, and never stop until they’ve won.They rise from every downfall, each death another start,For in the core of their kind, every loss renews their heart.Out of fire, out of fear, out of agony they spring,Not conquered, not forgiven, just burning for what havoc brings.
And in the ruin, something human stirs—the lesson lands at last:That even in despair, a creature finds its power when the old life’s burned and passed.We, too, rise from flames we didn’t ask for, scorched by trials unplanned,Renamed by suffering, carried onward, scarred but able still to stand.From ashes, monsters make a throne, and victims carve their names,For every soul that’s burned by night, by fire, by bunny games.In hell or earth, survival’s taught by things too wild to tame,And in the dark, we find the truth: we’re never quite the same.