The Rabbit fears the worm, mistaking it for a snake,
And casts it deep where shadows wake.
Yet the Snake wore a mask, gentle and sly,
Feeding on her trust, beneath a quiet lie.
It never bit—just stayed and played,
Each day a feast, as love decayed.
Now it's gone, left silence and ache,
But the Rabbit dreams of that hidden snake—
A haunting tale her soul shall keep,
A nightmare lurking in her sleep.