Our story

Our story

Our story is our life
It starts as just ink on the page
The ink turns white as it touches the paper
And our story begins

We go through life
Living our story
Living it differently
Yet with a familiar similarity

Our story is our own
We write in it every second
Of every minute
Of every hour
Of every day
Of every year

And our story never ends
The ink may dry out on occasion
Or it might turn blue, or red, or green, or even black
And those are the passages that matter the most

The blue for when we feel down on our luck
When we feel our story is just getting good
Something happens to bring it down
Until eventually the ink turns white again

Red is for the blood we spill
The memories we have
That keep us alive
No matter if their big or small

It’s the red that jumps off the page
The parts everyone looks at
The parts we regret the most
And the parts that changes us the most

As we live our story
We write so much red
That for some of us
It almost goes black

But then we have a moment
That one moment
That brings it back
That turns it back to white

Green is for the envy we have of other chapters
For the other parts that we all are apart of
For the parts we skim over and wish
We had written them ourselves

For of course all of our stories are connected
And green marks the connection
And when the ink get’s so green
And the pages are filled with nothing but green

Then we realize
Then we know
That the chapters really do come one after another
And that everyone has their moment to be first

And at that moment
At that time
The ink fades to white
And our own story is written again

Black is for the parts we read over and over again
For the parts we know the best
And we know by heart
For it’s those parts that make up our true story

The story of us
The story of how it was started
The story of how we came to be
The story that we don’t just sit down and write

But we engrave it in
We write it in so deep
That it truly becomes the only part of the story
The only part that we know

And when it becomes so black
So full of black we stop
We stop our hand
And we stop writing, but only for a moment

And in that moment we look at all of the black
And then we realize something
Something we knew all along
And then we start writing again

And then does our ink becomes what it was all along
It becomes blue with love
Red with passion
Green with compassion
Black with honesty
And white with truth

For the parts of our story
That are the most true
Are the colors we write
And the color we never see

We all write with blue
And red
And green
And black

But the color that maters the most
Is the one we never see and a lot of times
We never write
It’s the color that writes itself
The color that puts it all together
That holds it still
That binds everything together
Its the color that you make
When you put in blue, red, green, and black
All together until you truly can’t see what is their
And that is the true color of our story
The color we never see
It’s the white of our lives

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