Cain's Path

I roam like sheep, my blood splattered on Ramesses’s door,

Walking a path around the earth and its very core

And even the sky itself awaits my gnarled step

Of callousness, as the clouds thunder and the rain and winds wept

Upon hearing my ominous, corrupt calling.

Oh! Do you hear them sneering and mauling

As I slip and trip and Fall deeper and deeper into blood coated waters, filled with a fine film of sin.

Despite His curse, all is flame within my hollow skin.

Yet he sleeps. Abel sleeps in his own blood, now one with the lambs.

An army of light and bands

Of angels watch over his pristine purity. Oh! So many legions of beasts of white light tease me as they roam among him.

I think of his white, luscious hair – which I use to trim.

With rocky scissors of old and rusty, grain filled scythes.

Yet I cut too deep, penetrating his perfection. Now, all is blood. All is knives.