The Poetry Society

The savage, roaring flames,

A light so powerful and free,

Growling like a lion,

Gobbling up everything it touches,

Climbing tree after tree,

Looking for its destination,

Tasting the rough flaky skins of trees,

Licking up branch after branch,

Smelling here and there,

Getting more powerful by the moment,

The devil's weapon,

Springs fear from every animal,

Brings death and hate,

It will never stop

Burning,

Burning,

      Burning .