Thought he characteristically
the disenchanted rabbit that
was strolling apathetically
through dense jungle habitat
that he should sup upon the hawk
and feast thus, while his kin should gawk
from awe at this bold guile.
The hawk, it seems,
had other thoughts than
being food for idle dreams
and chanced instead to overturn the plan.
The disenchanted rabbit thus
dim of wit, but not of spirit,
began to rant, and rave, and cuss
till short in time e’en the hawk did fear it.
“This bunny,” thought he high atop
his kingdom as he did survey,
“must learn just when and where to stop,
and be taught that he too must obey.”
So thus, did this brave falcon seek
to quench this thirst for evolution,
to make not dead, but yet quite meek,
this rabbit’s thoughts of revolution.
On trying though, he did not count
on kinship of the rabbit clan
they, who a fierce attack did mount
once caught up in the plan
to free themselves from slavery
(however subtle it may be).
They fiercely battled knavery
that once they couldn’t even see.
Not many died that jungle morn
and though fresh tears were shed
a brand new thirst for life was born
and mouths and minds both fed.
Though small was he, the rabbit weak,
a hope did brightly gleam
that ye shall find whate’er ye seek
if ye shall chance to dream.
So says Fluffy, the Psycho Bunny (TM).