Textures

This poem describes the struggles and quagmires of a caged parrot as a metaphor for the active suppression of women in certain countries.

crenellations on the wall reflected the moonshine

It's beak a measly red, plumes a pale green

It gazed at the moon through a tessellated mesh

Own beauty sapped by the interlocked grid

There weren't enough stars in the night sky

To represent the light she'd never seen

As it repeated to merry children and enthralled guests

The merciless sayings it had always been told

Would bring it prosperity, alas, thats all it got

Its eye got more ornate as the sayings got denser

No longer was freedom significant, just a painless death

The identity she had was convolved within

A fabric that hung behind the tapestry of their virulence

And took one final gaze at the gridlocked moonshine 

Author's Note

Ignore spelling errors