Thirteen times I went to the well
To draw my thoughts, I'll gather and tell
Like bricks that I've laid to build my life
Those that crumbled only caused me strife
Thoughts became words, cast into the sea
But they returned, always haunting me
Like a severed arm washed up on the shore
I just don't think I can give anymore
Because I've lived, how many times do I have to die?
Because I've lived, how many lives do I have to die?
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