Sandra Lynn Mallo Adcock D. Ph. M S.M.
He sits on the shelf –But smaller than an elf. And there he stays—–Til he sees. That cursed elf —Having his earned due. That haunts my days —Through untl the dark dark nights.
Nobody sees his eveil smile–Filled with bile. But I and I alone–can discern. HIs wicked grimace—He hs much guile. Like a trickster gargoyle made out of stone -Your soul he wants for his own!
He taunts he tempts me —-Leaves everyone empty. Lures me close—-In just one jolt And whipsers cleverly—-without stammering, And I just listen as he boasts—Let him tighten his own noose Of how he always wins the games. —JUST WAIT TIL ARMAGEDON
And every day he tries so hard.—To steal without wining them over. To win and wear me doen—-In vulnerable states And he says he’ll share his power to–But dare I’ll never believe that
And every day he tries so hard.—-To steal without wining them over. To win and we dare—-In vulnerable states And he says he’ll share his power to–Dare me if I ever belive that. I’ll just give up my crown.– I bet I see him share it with a frog
But he will never break my shield.– OR RESOLVE! That keeps me safe from harm.–God’s good grace protect upon. I do not bow to fear or yield.—-My Life, My Power, My Life, My God! To Lucifer’s broken charm.– I shall and will disarm.