A spark ignites, so small, so sly,
Born of a glance, a word gone awry.
It leaps to life, a sudden flame,
Feeding on fury, stoked by blame.

A roaring blaze, fierce and wild,
A tempest untamed, untender, unstyled.
It sears through thought, it burns through care,
Consuming reason in its glare.

For a moment, the world is ablaze,
Each breath, each pulse, a molten haze.
Tongues of wrath lick at the soul,
Devouring warmth, devouring whole.

And then—it fades, a cruel retreat,
Leaving silence sharp and bittersweet.
The ashes settle, the embers die,
Cold winds rush where heat did lie.

Empty now, a hollowed shell,
No comfort left, no tale to tell.
Anger spent, it leaves behind
A frigid void, an aching mind.

Oh, fleeting fire, so quick to start,
You scorch the soul, you break the heart.
Yet in your wake, a truth is told:
A flash of fury leaves only cold.