Here is the tortured soul, that the earth feeds
devouring her plains, fields, weeds, and her sycamore trees.
spreading knowledge through her lands, here and there gathering his lambs.

Here is the tortured soul, who bears his own mark
A painful memory that still harks.
It bleeds and tears the skin, leaving the mark of the beast within.

Here is the tortured soul, sobbing in pain
never knowing of what he had gained.
The power to make the world black as tar
but he still reminded of his scar.

Here is the tortured soul, being kindled in the white flame
he has forgiven himself, and looks for no more shame
tired of the blame, all it has done is drain.

Here is the tortured soul, now accepting his name
he breathes for at last he is been tamed
he screams out loud, for his journey has come to end,
for what now? For Cain is dead.

Jordan Couso

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tortured-soul-cain/