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