Fluffy Fiends’ Night
Beneath a jaundiced harvest moon that flickers over battered stone and wire,The alleys groan with secrets hoarded, shadows stretched by waning fire.Here, in the crumbling spaces where old neon sputters and glass crunches underfoot,A host of fiends assembles, low and ruthless, their presence cloaked in rabbit’s soot.Each streetlamp halo flickers pale across matted fur and glistening claw,While ancient warnings in the gutter freeze the veins of all who ever saw.
They scuttle through the sewage veins and leap from dumpsters caked with grime,Unseen but never absent—burrowed deep in rot and urban crime.Eyes aglow with wild delight, twin embers bored into the dark,Surveying corners where the faintest hope is gnawed to bone, then torn apart.The world above, so smug, so blind, discards its scraps, forgets the cost,As fluffy fiends below the curb rise up to claim what life has lost.
No guardian watches over tin can shrines or piss-stained fence or busted tire;The city dreams of innocence while fiends below conspire.Twitching noses sniff out panic, scent the sweat of city sin,A thousand tiny predators with riot kindled deep within.They gather, fangs and talons out, their forms a contradiction—Soft and small, yet murder-bound, hell-bent on pure affliction.
Every hop is calculated, every shadow hides intent,Their charm a mask for violence, every twitch a dark event.Eyes reflect the alley’s filth, sharpened on a world that’s numb,A thousand heartbeats trip and falter when the fiends begin to come.Children whisper stories, elders bar their doors with dread,While drunkards choke on laughter, never seeing what’s ahead.
In these gutters, nightmares thrive, and cuteness births catastrophe,A pastel mask for razor teeth—fluffy cloaks for blasphemy.Paws as soft as midnight mist creep past discarded dreams,While innocence is gutted on the rusty nail that gleams.Heartbeats stagger, breath runs short—there’s nothing left but fear,When the fiends emerge, unseen, unchecked, and clawing near.
No preacher’s bell, no parent’s shout, can drive this menace back;The fluffy tide, relentless, drags the city down the track.Cries go muffled, curtains twitch, the living hope for light—But darkness owns the alleyway; it is the fluffy fiends’ night.
Their empire built of fear and fur, of howls and hidden faces,A kingdom ruled by savage paws in forgotten, filthy places.Let no fool mistake their nature, let no gentle hand mislead—For when the city falls asleep, the bunnies rise to feed.They reign until the sun returns, dissolving dreams in pale retreat,And only stains and scattered tufts remain where night and hunger meet.