Judas Iscariot of Kukiland

Born of a land rich in roots,
Raised among brothers of the same breath,
Bound by the blood of Kuki,
A child of faith, a bearer of Christ’s name.

Yet, the whispers of greed called his name,
In the shadow of silver, love turned cold.
He stood with the enemy, his home left behind,
Traded peace for betrayal, and kin for gain.

But when his path led to sorrow’s gate,
Who stood by him in his final hour?
The very land he abandoned mourned his fall,
Kuki hands laid flowers upon his grave.

When his body weakened, who prayed?
Who gave without question, without shame?
Kuki hearts, full of love, never wavered—
For in Kuki land, every soul is precious.

Yet, what remains of a name once trusted?
What is the worth of a life sold for silver?
To betray one’s own is to lose oneself,
For love given is not always love returned.