]We are artists, bastards creators, deceivers.
We are every story’s outset, and their fleeting final word.
We are greed and heroism.
We are invaluable. We are a jalopy.
We are knowledge and love.
We are monsters.
We are nowhere, we are oasis, we are paradise.
We are the queasy feeling when you walk home alone.
We are rats, and we are swans.
We are terrible unapologetic villains.
We wait here at the X for you.
We are zealots.
We are Rain Dogs.
(Also, if you have a better idea for any of the letters, let me know.)
We are artists, bards, creators and architects of imagination.
We are the temerity and assurance that comes with the forging of each new chapter.
We are every story's outset, and its fleeting, final sentence.
We're everywhere we're meant to be, and nowhere we should.
We're between the lines of each new page.
Letters lost somewhere between the dotting of i's and crossing of t's.
We're chafed at the edges, and unravelled from use.
We're a self-placing bookmark, and litmus of interpretation.
We're stained with the righteousness of reading aloud for all who will listen.
We're waiting for you.
I'd say perhaps the most effective reading being one of a personally processed nature. Your own understanding of both the weight and meaning behind each of the words, and how their expression may influence their reception by the audience. Also, the consideration of the medium between what you would hope to convey, and what you would hope to instill.