Only Crown Worth Wearing – A Poem About Survival, Not Bitterness

Some people mistake this poem for anger.

It’s not.

It’s clarity.

Only Crown Worth Wearing isn’t about becoming cold or heartless.

It’s about what happens when you finally see the world without illusions.

[Only Crown Worth Wearing

They never loved your kindness.

They loved the weight of your hands

lifting their burdens,

your back bent like a bridge

they were happy to cross.

You were useful.

And usefulness looks a lot like love

to the desperate and the selfish.

But the day your pockets emptied,

the day your strength thinned to bone,

their voices changed.

Suddenly

you were difficult,

dramatic,

too much,

not enough.

Nothing.

They speak of loyalty

like a family heirloom—

polished words hung around their necks

for show.

But loyalty to them

is just a coat,

worn in winter

and discarded in spring.

Trust?

Just another currency.

Spent fast.

Replaced faster.

Your gratitude built their kingdoms.

Your sacrifices paved their roads.

And while you were thanking them

for scraps,

they were measuring your grave.

Convenience is their god.

And when the scales tip,

they won’t hesitate—

they will trade your name

like loose change

and sleep just fine.

So the wise learn early:

Don’t wait to be hunted.

Move first.

Before the knife finds your spine,

become the blade.

Before the tide pulls you under,

learn how to swim in blood and salt.

Because the hand you spare today

may be the one

wrapped around your ankle tomorrow.

Mercy without strength

is not holy.

It’s bait.

And this world

devours the gentle

who mistake softness for safety.

So wear your scars like armor.

Sharpen your instincts.

Guard your heart like a locked gate.

This isn’t cruelty.

It’s breath.

It’s grit.

It’s waking up alive.

And in a world that feeds on the fallen,

survival

is the only crown

worth wearing.

Jeremy Faivre]

Because at some point, most of us learn the same painful truth:

Not everyone who praises your kindness actually values you.

Sometimes they only value what you can carry for them.

Kindness vs. Usefulness

The opening lines set the tone:

They never loved your kindness.

They loved the weight of your hands

lifting their burdens…

There’s a difference between being loved and being useful.

And unfortunately, a lot of relationships blur that line.

People will call you “kind,” “selfless,” “reliable,” “such a good friend” —

but what they really mean is:

You’re convenient.

As long as you’re helping.

As long as you’re giving.

As long as you’re bending.

But the moment you stop providing?

The moment you’re tired, broke, overwhelmed, or hurting?

Watch how fast the language changes.

Suddenly you’re:

• difficult

• dramatic

• selfish

• too much

  
  

Or worse — invisible.

That shift is what this poem lives in.

The Performance of Loyalty

One of the central ideas is how easily words like loyalty and trust get weaponized.

They speak of loyalty

like a family heirloom—

polished words hung around their necks for show.

Some people don’t practice loyalty.

They advertise it.

They wear it like an accessory because it sounds noble.

But the second loyalty costs them something?

They drop it.

Because for them, trust isn’t sacred.

It’s transactional.

And once you start seeing relationships as transactions, everything changes. You realize how many promises were just marketing.

Gratitude Can Be Exploited

This line might be one of the harshest truths in the whole piece:

Your gratitude built their kingdoms.

Your sacrifices paved their roads.

There’s something tragic about being thankful for crumbs while someone else is profiting from your generosity.

You think you’re being humble.

They think you’re easy.

You think you’re being loving.

They think you’re expendable.

And that imbalance quietly drains people for years.

Sometimes decades.

Until there’s nothing left.

Survival Isn’t Cruelty

The turning point of the poem is when it stops being passive and becomes defensive.

Not violent.

Not malicious.

Defensive.

Don’t wait to be hunted.

Move first.

This isn’t about hurting people.

It’s about protecting yourself before you’re destroyed by people who never planned to protect you back.

There’s a big difference between:

• kindness

  and

• self-sacrifice without boundaries.

One is healthy.

The other slowly kills you.

The poem argues that mercy without strength isn’t virtue — it’s vulnerability.

And vulnerability, in the wrong hands, becomes an invitation.

So the message isn’t “become cruel.”

It’s:

Be aware.

Be sharp.

Set boundaries.

Stop offering your heart to people who treat it like currency.

The Crown

The title comes from the final idea:

This isn’t cruelty.

It’s breath.

It’s grit.

It’s waking up alive.

survival

is the only crown

worth wearing.

Crowns usually symbolize power, status, glory.

But in real life?

Most days aren’t about glory.

They’re about endurance.

About getting through betrayal.

Through disappointment.

Through people who only love you when you’re useful.

Sometimes the greatest victory isn’t being admired.

It’s simply not being broken.

Survival isn’t glamorous.

It’s gritty.

But it’s honest.

And sometimes, it’s the only thing you truly earn.

I didn’t write this poem from a place of hatred.

I wrote it from experience.

From learning the hard way.

From watching masks fall.

From realizing that protecting your peace isn’t selfish — it’s necessary.

Because at the end of the day, you can’t pour from an empty cup.

And you can’t save everyone.

Sometimes the strongest thing you can do…

is survive.

And wear that crown without apology.

– Jeremy