We Are All Children of Sin

I can’t help but be a child of Cain

My hands too bloody to be holy

Too stained to be washed clean

I was once told we are our own thoughts and actions

So does that make me a murderer for being a bad person?

Is that all I’ll ever be?

The sin is strong in me

It’s the sin of not getting better

Of continuing the hurt

Past down, man upon man, wife upon husband, parent upon child, stranger upon stranger

Blood you keep coughing back up

That won’t leave your body

We touch so many people in our lives

But how many do we scar?

It’s human nature to both love and to maul

Especially on those close to us

Especially when we aren’t aware we’re doing it

Now, I don’t believe in God

This isn’t a religious poem in the slightest

But if I met him I would ask

Is Hell the last destination?

Will our hands ever learn to be tender and to hold instead of trying to choke one another?

Is there still salvation for us, for people like me?

I don’t know what his answer would be

And I don’t think I’d want to find out