Thou 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.
