In a maze there lived a blue rabbit,
who couldn't hop 'cause his feet were sticky.
Paths whisper secrets, do you listen?
They say, "Turn left, oh wanderer," but you turn right.
What irony, in corridors contracting contracts.
"Help," cried the rabbit,
too wise for holes, too 'sticky' for brambles.
Is freedom just faux silk threads leading to walls?
Click if you dare to find:
Fulfillment or Mirth