bewildered

there’s a reason our insides spoil and churn
why gentle souls bewilder
how turmoil is spun
how we acquiesce and resolve dissonance
with cancerous logic
that twists words into barbs
scrapping at our tender bellies
bleeding all the angels crying from abuse
leaving carcasses sucked dry
littering fields and streets
with marrow-less shells and empty skulls
winning is a disease
and joy is tethered and contorted
into ottomans for dirty boots