Stanza 2:

With words as our base, we stress and create,
Some fine form of nothing,  released and then made,
There are words in the fire, there is fire in words,
Unheard, something similar, too little soul to converse,
With words as our base, we create and then stress,
Rhythm and rhyme we can find best in disguise,
Shown frequency and heart, apart from the world,
The sounds of the words as they role from the tongue,
We slowly lose faith in the beat of our chest,
With words as our base, we stress and create. 

The End

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