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