Wicked me,
wicked time,
wicked is mine.

Floating above dreaming
on cloud nine.

A door to reality
opens wide for me.

No I do not enter,
instead I fly away,
like a butterfly that just
morphed from its cocoon.

My wings started out sticky and wet,
soon after I was dry and ready to take off and fly.

Reality can stick it,
leave me a note I don’t care,
I love breathing the fresh free air.

I am freeeeeee!
Though once again reality comes to steal my breath away.