deep winter
i don't think i deserve a second chance
you could pull away at my string
unravel me, make me dance
and that would be too much for this stasis of mine
frozen in different snowflakes of time
each bearing memories, asking for tithes
demanding fealty, a bended knee
lest they warrant me another execution
so ill sit, fester, let the salt enter
whilst i try to escape this wasteful brine, all of my own making
my own tithe
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