Three things needed to be what we are
Three gimicks making the wordmonger
First, the thirst to mimick and bind everything that comes before eyes, in words
Words must come before fists
Second is the sharp silence,
Though we trade blows in words
Silence is the actual lethal thing in our arsenal
Nothing cuts deeper than nothing
We know what expects on the other side
Nothing cuts deeper than the ghost knife
Third is that one thing
That one being
One place to belong to
One blank in the puzzle
One and only
Nothing comes after nothing comes before
One thing wordlocks can't hold onto
That one thing that keeps the insanity in check
Now its slipping away
And fires are back, eating at our heels
We can only watch from behind a glass wall
Thin as air but refuse to move
Explore some more, one more heal
Something to seal these thoughts
Before we explode
...please