I stole the sky.
I stole it with a glance.
Stuck here, in this lonely cell, with nothing but cement walls and an iron cot for company, I caught the moon in my eyes.
The wooden shutter wasn't supposed to be open.
I wasn't supposed to be able to see.
But I hacked at the wood with a spoon. I hacked and I dug and I peeled.
The sky revealed itself to me, a dark blue sheet.
It calmed me.
To know that out there, the sky still existed.
When you're sitting in prison...time slows.
I'm a thief.
Lying here, I realize they're going to find the hole.
I'm going to be punished.
But it was worth it.
I stole the sky...but I had to put it back.
It doesn't belong to me.
OOO
A/N: It can be whoever you want it to be.
I'm reading a deliciously good book called "The Book Thief". It's the kind of book where you have to read every page ten times, in order to appreciate every word, every space, every period. I got the idea for this from that book.