Fire is animal of its own creation

It consumes everything

It lives and dies

It produces waste; ashes left behind

It takes no shape no form

But as it goes, we run away

Since pride and joy is to give us fear

But if some of us are slow

It tortures us more then a cat playing with a mouse

It gives us one of the worst deaths possible

In its Demonic nature

It never stops it just keeps on raging, letting the anger out

It gives us one of the toughest battles

But when it leaves

There are tears of things that have turned to dust

There are sighs of realif

All I want is to breath the fresh air again

Instead of being choked by all the heavy smoke