I enjoy the silence sitting in the dark.
It’s not depressing, I’m just working on my art.
From the start I walked a dirty road.
Not that any are clean..
Just that mine showed.
Here in the quiet I can fear
that this is the last time I’ll sit here and hear.
No noisy highway and cigarettes smacking the road.
Just myself and all that I can mold.
My wife is pregnant and I guess I am as well.
The more the clock ticks the better yet I dwell.
Oh well, it’s just the youth in us that counts.
Somewhere, someone on a fireplace mounts
an ashy picture with a broken angled frame.
At one point that Man was a baby unnamed.
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Wow! This was a nice read. You have nice creativity when it comes to symbolism and choice of words. However, I had a hard time understanding the message of your poem. I feel like I am almost there, but not quite. My suggestion is to work on your title. Make it to where the reader can connect to the message.
Other than that, I loved reading your piece!