The Fiery Mischief of the Infernal Bunnies
In moonlit hush where cobblestones still gleam, the infernal horde begins to rise,Their cottontails aflame with hell’s harsh gleam, turning slumber’s peace to frantic cries.Eyes aglow like embers cast from hellfire’s core, a playful hop conceals their wrath,Each bound ignites a kernel of disaster’s lore, a march of ruin blazing their path.
Soft fur shimmers ‘neath the lantern’s glow, a soft mask for malice grown,Beneath each twitching whisker, secret flames bestow the power to turn calm fields to bone.They scatter kindling in deserted lanes, hoofing sparks into the breathing night,Where once the fair thrived in gentle rains, now ragged ash blights every hopeful sight.
Their hopping forms, so deft and fleet, erase the line ‘twixt friend and foe,A meadow bright becomes their pyre’s seat, as tongues of flame consume below.No hearth is safe, no hearthstone spared, the evening hearths all swallowed whole,Infernal rabbits, mercilessly paired, weave conflagration from a single coal.
Villagers whisper of an ancient pact, a curse bound to twilight’s dying breath,Legends speak of bunnies once benign, now resurrected to dance with death.In crumbling barns their laughter echoes, a mocking hymn to ruin’s claim,Each barn door ripped, each hayloft plundered, left to smolder where the sparks remain.
By riverbanks, the willows weep, their branches scorchèd by the bounding host,Their roots upturned in frantic leap, bear witness to the inferno’s boast.Where children once laid out straw and grain to coax the timid creatures near,The embers roar, the embers stain—sweet innocence consumed by fear.
Town square clocks toll frantic beats as rabbits cavort ’midst columns tall,Their paws strike mortar, shattering streets, as flame-laced shadows scorch the wall.No soldier stands, no shield avails against a foe so slyly bred,For in each bunny’s flickering tail lies cunning born of hell and dread.
Cathedral spires bow to ash, stained-glass fractures drip with embers bright,A choir’s hymn dissolves to crash, replaced by crackling hymns of night.The faithful pray in splintered pews, as bunnies leap across the nave,Their eyes alight with wicked news: salvation is a pyre, not a grave.
When dawn arrives, the sky blushes red, as if ashamed to see the scar,Yet rabbits fade in smoke and dread, leaving ruin etched beneath each star.Churchyard tombstones bear their name, an epitaph of soot and flame,And whispered warnings carved in shame attest: infernal bunnies stake their claim.
Through villages and burnished fields, their legacy extends anew—A lesson in the power that innocence wields when mercy is untrue.For every trap set out in jest, every carrot left to entice,Bunnies rise to leave unrest, their mischief fueled by frozen vice.
So let the elders sound the bell, the children fear the soft paw,And may every hearth and wishing well recall the price of innocence’s flaw.Infernal bunnies bound the land, a rabble born of fire and spite,Their mischief writ in blazing sand, a proof to endless night.