The Scarlet Water.
Craved for a rebelling brink
In this bubble of perfection
Wrapped in a blanket so shrunk
Fragile consoling deterioration.
She, a coy feathery being in a dungeon
Singing a melancholy on a metallic twig
Dies a zillion deaths in a moment
Fancied a reviving breeze in a gig
These silvery bars capturing her
Ceasing her to eat the golden grains
Such sympathetic seeds weren’t her need
Never wanted to be ordained!
All was a want to jeopardize
To endanger her blood and bone
A drive to realize
The thrill to escape alone.
Looking on her winsome feathers
Trying to flip and flap it
When all falls down in shatters
As she saw rustiness in her plumage and spirit.
The Dawn was ahead
But no journey of grain to find
Too much cold once burnt her
And now too much light blinds.
She shifted feebly in her cage golden
Which seemed like a thorny rose
Wanted to flee far now
Get out of this silhouette show.
Memor of the free dusks and dawns
Rewind in her thoughts
Sought to be with her beloved ones
To achieve the blazing shine.
Maybe her decision was late
The fate had already else decided
She chose to dare or die
Forgetting life and death were just coincided
Her feathers flapped against the bars
Bruises got worsened
Sweat was pouring like a shower
Maybe this was the end.
As she kept fighting with the inanimate
Drops of her unsullied blood flew
Down was kept a watery bowl of ferrate
Which tasted her drooped droplets few
Coin of fate flipped for her with a nyctophlic love
An enslaved soul left the shape
Olive leaves were taken form that dove
She assumed her freedom was just sour grapes.
Soon another same comes flying
Sat on the reddish bowl
Understand the maxim it was saying
Around must be a cheesy fowl
Sensed quivering kenopsia in the cage hung above
Standing behind was the trapper
Took her in his palms so serrated
Afraid her, was ‘bout to shatter
The freedom is exorbitant she thought
Contused the culprit with her beak
Fumbled he as she fled away
To her falling apart was for weaks.
Jouska of the act so evil
Played as she emerged out of dark bowers
A vow was taken in her mother’s demise,
For a revenge of the scarlet water.
Written by Stuti Shree