Sometimes, without even being aware I ask myself:
"At which given up sky are you gazing?"
Writers huh... nothing really special about us I suppose.
We're just reaally envious and creative creatures.
The kinds who can put into words something we desired but cannot happen because the time has gone, or because it's plain impossible to begin with.
So, unable to fulfill these desires I pray:
"Just leave me with my words, for they are roads I can take without care."