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Every day I’m staring straight into a shattered mirror
Picking at the pieces of broken glass
I try over and over to put it back together
With blood streaming down my arms

And I’m standing there with words made of reminiscence
The echolalia is battering the center of my ear
And a flower that bloomed prematurely
It grows out the side of my head

And I’m crying holding onto sandy little thoughts
I’m 5 years old all over again
Sitting in the water and grabbing at the sand
and it flows down the sides of my palm