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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required High Noon By Kevin Robey April 21, 2013 I want to run my fingers through your hair Before my wheezing, one last breath of air I can’t breathe anymore I say with remorse This happy trial has finally run its course To prepare for the worst of what I’ve realized I look to your face, smile lines I’ve memorized My eyes are burning from staring at the sun You never let me down, and we always had fun I want you to know you were the missing piece To hide away the demons under lock and key But this is too much; it seems I’m too far gone I sing along, my faulty strings butcher the song I could just be having a moment of dread Critical thresholds are well above the red How should I go? Stab me in my cold heart Surely a good start, open casket; that’s smart Let’s go cryptic, make the prose appear mystic Make you see it’s a tree rather than a stick Maybe I could string together a few more rhymes So you think I’m an artist, happens all the time The reflection of truth is pretty extraordinary But the pain that I feel is quite to the contrary What is to blame for this perpetual restrain? Fragmented truths scattered across my brain Before my fears shatter the shining lies I will wear the mask, put on the disguise One last time, maybe I’ll sleep very soon I’m wide awake now, and this is high noon
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