Space Between Mountains

Song pollution
Noise in hundreds
The smog is humming your worst
And we all cough it up

Given a shape to them
The words in a fury
Some stuck in your airways
The grayness overhead

There are choices:
Past and a prison
You have unmade tons
But can you make one?

Light skews the borders
The dark in exile for once

The shadows from before
Lurk behind the day moon
The night keeps its distance
Keeps you in a question

All the days halt
There's a block, a loss

Wrote our injuries
And it's tragic

Disasters in a pattern
Swarm and waste your youth

Your din still grips the ground
The space between the mountains
Where the sound will settle itself
And rest inside you

Crippled instruments
Nearly collapsing
What's ripe now is about to rot
On the branches or in your stomach