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SATANS HAND
Satan holds the paint brush
tightly in his hand
as time moves slowly
he paints each grain of sand
Satan trys to run the world
from deep in his pit of hell
as we move through our daily lives
may we break his nasty spell
Satan fights for our very souls
he steps with a fairies bouch
feel him getting closer
like a cat about to pounch
Satan will not win this war
he will walk away the loser
you might hear me loudly roar
listen close for I will not stutter
Satan as you watch from hell
I will take my stand while on bended knee
you might yet give a healthy battle
when I ask for help from my life you will flee
Satan you might take over the life of another
attacking the minds of the very weak
I will continue on my path in life
and the peaceful place I seek
Hi Renee I liked this poem alot... flowed well. Good to see that you wont give up the fight with Satan... he is the loser, not us! Thanks for sharing Roz
Your strength definitely comes through loud & clear on this one. And I dos so agree.... Let Satan take a back seat if he dares. Amy
Gentle is the night♥
This piece is so strong. The title caught my attention and I am glad it did. Wonderful!