Not every smile is sanctuary.
Not every friend is safe.
Some carry daggers dipped in honey,
Charmed in tone, yet crooked in faith.
They don’t wear horns or hiss in dark—
They laugh with you at tables shared,
While bitterness brews beneath the cheers,
And your victories make them scared.
They don’t throw stones; they measure you.
Counting wins like grudges kept.
“Must be nice,” they say, with tilted grins,
While shrinking you with praise inept.
“You’ve changed,” they whisper, eyes askance.
Yes—by grace, I surely have.
God raised me from the place they knew;
I won’t apologize for paths HE paved.
And I won’t starve my purpose
Just to feed their pride.
I will not house betrayal
Disguised in friendship’s guise.
You see—
When light ascends, the shadows stir.
But I’ve learned to fast from their approval,
To feast on truth, to starve their lies.
To withdraw—not in spite, but strategy.
Because love is patient, but not blind.
And peace? It grows where pruning’s done.
Not every branch is meant to climb—
Some are cut, so fruit may come.
So here’s the choice, with mercy laced:
Raise them up, if they’ll receive.
Redeem their envy—if it bends.
But if not, let silence cleave.
For the line is drawn when secrets spill—
And bitter friends become revealed.
But even then, I pray they heal.
Just not at the cost of my calling.