The emptiness is like a blank paper, a flyleaf. Like a burning fire spreading, amusing the pyro that's in love with the flames.
The fire dancing, singing in the ears of its fine lover, until the flames betray the pyro and consumes him whole leaving nothing but ashes.
In the ashes, in what was a lover, now is just empty. In that emptiness grows anger, anger for such emptiness and yet not willing to give it up.
Knowing the pain consuming them, eating them up like the black plague spreading, making millions slaves of its power, spreading disease.
Like a crazy person gone mad on a killing spree and not having the will to stop. They all played with fire, choosing not to give up there sweet fascination with it. In the end they all got burned.
Who is the next slave of this fine flame? Because I have already become the Pyro.