Small Little Rabbit

As small as he was, he was fast,
outrunning his predators to the last.
Minute in the vast forest,
trying not to add to the daily chorus.

Quickly he ran, from the orange death,
Darting here and there, right and left.
Trying to avoid death’s bait,
trying to bypass his race’s fate.

The little rabbit, small and curious,
then the shots flew, fast and furious.
The poor little rabbit, small in the night,
could not avoid death’s hungry bite.

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