Why I Envy the butterfly

I envy the butterfly;
And why?
She not me is able to fly
Away
Away from life's mundane crawl
 
She picks up her wings.
Delicately powdered things,
And brave the ever free sky!
And winds.
Winds that beat and buffer.

She has learnt the flow of it.
She, not me.
For I am tossed by the winds of life.
Pushed and pulled.
Pulled by cords of my mind's creation.

I envy the butterfly;
And why?
She, not me has changed
Shed.
Forsaken the skin that held her captive.