Millstone

Chattering, nagging, Black Speech, incessant, irrelevant, irrational
Pettiness always on your tongue
Your fetid breath crawling down the back of my neck
Your cold, dead hands clutching, crushing my soul
My needs, my desires cats paw to your whims
And when you've finally, painfully excised every last ounce of my patience
All the doors will be opened
And I will be resolved
I will be absolved
To leave the curse behind