The End

Wed, 09/27/2017 - 11:25 -- Erysian

What is this cloud that hangs over my head?

It follows me like some form of dread, 

Waiting, watching, readying the strike. 

I fear the moment it drops its impaling spike. 


What is this feeling that hovers near?

I can feel its presence as building fear.

It leans over my shoulder, 

Then vanishes as I turn, 

But I know it is growing bolder.

I fear what I will learn. 


What is this shadow that crouches over there?

It is seen one moment, and vanished the next. 

Its eyes rest on me, raising my hair.

I feel as if I have been hexed. 


What is this creature that sits close by?

Why do its eyes say that I have to die?

I am not ready, and never will be. 

Get Back! There’s still too much to see!


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741