Betraying Jesus with a kiss,
Judas dared to call Him “Master”.
Preferring momentary gain,
treating the Lord with such disdain,
a soul flirting with disaster.
Running toward the serpent’s hiss
reaping keys to the dark abyss,
we bite the line of satan’s lure,
with hardened heart and calloused pain.
Destructions way just leads to death,
void of mercy, gasping for breath.
Poetry type: Trilonnet