Learn more about other poetry terms

  I dread the mornings  I really dont wanna wake up I want to sleep No matter how much more Its more time in bed
Foreboding foresightThe chill of moonlight Petals rain from the sky   The creature grimacesAll hell he retracesEyes were yet defined  
There is something to be said About the color Orange. He is our president now, and As realization sets in, we begin to Dread. But dread will get us nowhere, and
I hang here on a chain dangling fowards and backwards  I am the punching bag Harder than a pillow, safer than a board  Punch me when you're mad, punch me when you're bored 
At the edge of my bed, A close friend creeps, His gibbers and gabbers fill my head, The way he speaks is quite bleak, I'd not mind it if he wasn't two years dead.
Every morning I awake With the Overbearing Sense of Dread That everyone Expects Me To carry Silently.  This
When the year starts you are eager to begin Yet as you go it makes you want to crawl out of your skin  How can something you love make you feel this way When you enjoy doing it how can you stray away  
We hear about problems, All over our world, How there are  bombings, shootings, And deaths allured.    What people forget, Is how this all began, With hatred that came,
There was something dark, Something dreadful, Lurking through the halls. - a spirit!- Malicious with disturbing desires, Like a shadow, it followed From room to room. Such a monstrous  creature
Walking in the black mist, I feel an impending sense of doom. I see nature on either side of me, But I feel all alone.
She saw the fall coming, Their inexorable end, Stupidly standing there On the edge of the blade Hanging over her head.
Subscribe to dread