Was the jaw that got me.
Cain, I was, stumbling across
the dead donkeys of my jealousies
and murdering my Abel
with the improper and unjustifiable,
eyeless and uncry-able
lichen-crusted, corpse bedusted
goblin crouching at my door.

My compass shifted,
needle stirred. I should have but
was not deterred.
And whose fault is it but my own?
We earn our tombs, when
reason's flown.

First in torment!
First in pain!
Cursed forever, is my Cain
to wander foot upon the moon.
This, the cost of breeding blooms.