There are many people
Who wear no crown,
But hold you up
When the world tries to pull you down.
They are the quiet prayers
Drifting like incense
Through the cracks of midnight—
Unseen, unwavering.
They worry like the moon worries
For the tide—
Distant, yet always drawn near.
Their eyes,
Lighthouses in your storms.
Their presence,
An anchor beneath your chaos.
They want nothing—
Not the echo of your thanks,
Not a seat at your table,
Only the warmth of your rising sun.
For your success,
They’d play the villain
In your story
If it meant you’d find your way.
They’d stand on your bad side,
A silent shadow
If that silence
Carved space for your light.
They won’t betray,
Won’t barter your trust.
Their loyalty doesn’t shout—
It stays.
These are the ones to cherish—
Not for what they give,
But for what they never take.
They are the roots
While you bloom.
They are the still hands
While you fly.
They are the ones worth loving,
The rarest kind—
The people
Genuinely happy for you.
Written by:
Mariya
Toyota Section
