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