The grass, not greener on the distant side, yet it gleams,
The hare treads, nibbles, undisturbed it seems,
Why do his steps not leave their mark?
Untrampled, untouched, in this tranquil park,
It accepts, it embraces, it quietly endures,
The hare's presence, its essence, it secures.

Here where I reside, the grass bears the weight,
I'm the hare, whose fate's a different state,
They hide and shield, no signs of disdain,
Their efforts to change me are all in vain.

I apologize, for I didn't choose my birth or death,
No authority over the duration of my breath,
Bear with me, the burden I possess,
Forgive my criticism, my voice of distress.

I am your sorrow, your affliction, your trial,
To exploit the riches of greens, I beg and beguile,
Yet I have no power, no control, no say,
In altering my nature or who I am today.

I cherish, I honor, I hold them dear,
The grass, my solace, my sanctuary, my cheer,
Can they bear a bit longer, while I remain,
The ungrateful, the critical, the hare in disdain?

The graves of grass, no hare can ever dig,
For those who've passed, and left, and did depart,
I treasure them, for they are my serene,
Though I'm still the hare, with a heart not yet seen.b