Let it blaze, let it change, let it finally reach the next stage of empathetic understanding —This is the words I kept for the dawn; a story untold, the truth unfold.
the corner of my mind,
Dusted off the ink that I left behind.
There’s a line in the common and unusual,
Truth sometimes blurred and twisted,
and communication gaps extend.
I held my value through the difficult time,
Told myself the truth can be clarified.
The inner voices in my mind are still there;
Like a whisper that never learned to delight.
I’m tired of being misunderstood,
trying to articulate, persuade, influence.
Cause my story was untold,
Not because it wasn’t comprehensive —
But because those hidden realm.
So I was meant to let unfold,
share insight, share wisdom.
Now the truth is lighting up my mind .
If I speak, can it be persuasive？
If I sing, can it be broadcasted?
This is my interpretation to -
the nuances of my experience —
A story untold, but nature seems to understand me the best.
There’s a shadow in -
every “maybe later,”
Like a storm learning how to wash off dust
I rewrite the episodes,
in the dark of the moment
highlights the storylines till it learns my tones.
But the road don’t care how afraid you get,
It only asks what you choose to explore.
So I’m tearing out the fear,
I’ve been through,
Turning all the almost into the story unfold .
And I’m tired of those hidden words,
tired of being unsure.
’Cause my story was untold,
Not because it wasn’t bold —
But because the world is more complex than what I thought.
Now I’m tired of being misunderstood,
I’m tired of feeling unfair
Of the choices that let it go,
keep moving forward,
as our world does so.
If I speak, can I articulate?
If I sing, can I create the momentum?
This is my story to the world of differences.
A story untold,
but it’s an influence I intend to make.
Let it shake, let it shine though
Let it brighten up the shadow under the open sky
Every tear was a seed I water to let it grow.
I’ll write it loud, I’ll write it whole—
No more hiding under what I’ve been through.
If nature could speak , it would say: go.
Yeah, my story is untold—
But not for lack of courageous spirit.
I just reluctantly waited till people can truly have empathetic feels.
Now I’m conveying the hidden truth,
pondering about the “what if” and “what happened” for all those years
overcoming the fear I felt
Let it blaze, let it change,
Let it finally reach the next stage of empathetic understanding —
This is the words I kept for the dawn:
A story untold, the truth uncovered.
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