A Story Left Untold

They cheered your name beneath the sun,

And crowned you loud for what you’ve done.

But now the world claims every part—

Your thoughts, your scars, your sacred heart.

They want your smile, not your pain,

Your perfect pose, not pouring rain.

They write your tale without your pen,

And knock on doors you’ve closed again.

Yet still you walk the narrow way,

Where lesser souls have gone astray.

Not for applause or flashing light,

But for the cause that stirs your fight.

You trade your peace for every plea,

Your name for nameless souls made free.

And though the silence calls you home,

You choose the crowd, you choose to roam.

For what is privacy, if sold,

To leave a story left untold?

You'd rather pay, you'd rather bleed,

Than let the mission lose its lead.

So let them watch and call it fame—

You know your fire, you know your name.

And when they ask what it has cost,

You’ll say: Not fame, but what I’d lost

If I had stayed where comfort lies,

And left the world to dim and die.