Dread

Dread; what do you say?
I think I hear the slightest whisper
Of how you're filling things with decay.
But it's no cause for concern, you continue,
Because isn't this part and parcel of your day?
Now sing me something new,
I want to hear about the flowers and trees,
Of rollicking laughters,
And the trickling of streams.
Well there you have it,
You've reached your sanctuary.
What is your name again, I ask.
You answer, quite truthfully,
Anything but Dread.