Let's try this again. Another Midrash attempting prose via iambic pentameter. This time about Cain. "Am I my brother's keeper?" He screamed at the endless cloudless sky. The jawbone of the ram Abel sacrificed was on the ground at Cain's feet, matted with a messy mix of animal and human life. Cain's hands, calloused and dry from countless days in a field, were hidden behind his back, sticking to the ram pelt he wore around his waist. Then, that voice. Once so soft, bypassed his ears and filled the inside of his skull in a thunderous assault that brought Cain to a knee.
