It engulfs you,
Raging through you
As a fire does through a forest;
Burning, scalding, scarring.
Lashing out, like the limbs of a burning tree
As you run through a forest alight with flames of chagrin.
These flames writhe and leap from treetop to treetop.
They cannot be controlled; cannot be contained.
You must let them flicker out;
Like the last dying embers of a campfire
After the ghost stories have been told
And the marshmallows roasted to a crisp.
If you dare try to contain this blaze,
Beware the explosive aftereffects
That even the smallest spark can constitute.
Everyone has experienced this inferno;
Some may call it just that; an inferno.
To many, though, it is simply known as this: