Original Sin

I was born in a black soot, ash cloud,

With foreign mud beneath my fingernails,

And a blue-black bruise around my eye.

Within the womb I came this way,

Like the brand of a tree set for logging,

Or the scar-graft of cattle; possession; their's.

I was coughing up tar before my child age;

The consequence of every chain smoker

That ever lived, lies within my chest.

This oil pumping from my soul

Seeps out of every pore upon my skin,

And I cannot hide the steal like shine of my pain.

You may not notice me, as a passer by;

My sweat is grey, in tracking, metal streaks.

Though I must warn, whoever you are, I am not like you.

Still, look closer at my skin if you will;

I stink of nickel; I am a beast of tar or methane,

In my hair you'll find the paper blossoms of dead trees.

Do not come too close to me,

I will pull you in the pits as well,

For it is in my cursed nature; I, being a beast of hell.