He whispers.
planting ugly seeds
of despair,
a cacophony
from the messenger
seeking to take refuge
in my head.
I whisper back,
not today, Satan!
never ever!
My whisper, more like a roar,
reverberates in my soul,
leaving shivers running from my tippy toes.
to my head.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
a cooking pot and twisted tales 
The Devil thought he’d brought me to my knees in defeat … until he heard me say, “Amen.”
❤
LikeLiked by 1 person