He will do right

The monsters don’t live under my bed anymore—they’re in my mind, quietly crawling through the crevices of my thoughts,

whispering fears where dreams used to dwell.

They wear the names of unanswered prayers—

echoes of silence where I begged for sound,

pleas that rose but returned as ashes.

They speak in the voice of rejection,

the kind that doesn’t just shut doors,

but slams them so hard the foundation of my heart trembles.

They carry the sting of betrayal—

not from enemies, but from those I dared to trust, those I gave pieces of myself to,

only to watch them walk away with the best of me.

And then there are the dreams—

once bright, bold, bursting with promise—

now buried beneath layers of “maybe someday” and “I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

Hope still knocks, but I’ve grown afraid to answer.Because when delay stretches long enough, it starts to wear the face of denial.

But God.

Even in the dark, even in the ache, even in the waiting. There’s a still, small voice cutting through the chaos, reminding me: delay is not a death sentence.

It’s not a no—it’s a not yet.

And sometimes, mercy hides in the waiting.

Sometimes, the holiest things grow in hidden places.

So I breathe.

I unclench my fists.

I gather every broken dream, every unanswered prayer, every whispered “why,” and I lay them at the feet of the One who wastes nothing, not even the ache.

Because the monsters might try to creep in my mind, but they do not reign. They must bow to the Great I AM.

The Spirit within me is louder than their lies.

And even here, even now—

God is still good.

He still reigns.

And he will still do right by me.