The First Murder

The First Murder "Both of you son's of mine, Bring me the fruit and wine!" Like a cheetah stalking it's prey, My brother and I raced outside. To please our father's heart, Not out of fear, but of pure love, My brother picked fruit from the trees, While I sought, the finest wine thereof. "Father will love these berries and nuts," The smile on my brothers face gave away, But deep down, my heart did flutter, The fruit was rotten and inedible, I must say. "Don't you think it's little wasted?" I dares to speak, fear in my heart, But he said nothing and he glared, A look that threatened to tear me apart. "Well, well, well, son's of mine, Let's see who loves me more!" His eyes shone with excitement divine, As he drank the wine I poured, But his joy didn't last very long, For my brother's fruit, then he saw, "What does this shoddy offering mean? You care so little, you didn't even care To check it for a flaw?!" The anger on his face was clear, He shouted and bade us to go, "Next time, do better or don't bother, And let this be a lesson you know." As I lay dying in agony, My brother's wicked deed I could see, "It's all your fault," he said with a glee, As he plunged the knife into me. This ended the world's first murder, A cautionary tale for humanity to ponder, That jealousy and violence only lead to sorrow, Leaving a painful legacy for tomorrow