Incarcerated

Here I am with my deep agile eyes
Like wild deer grazing under a tree.
Rest is a black cloud of cotton sighs;
Burqa is what's there, but no me.

Here I stand, under the scorching sun
Shying away from the eyes of every he.
A gloved hand dwelt by a mobile (seems fun);
More than the myself that is dwelt in the me.

Here I am with my 'equal' religion
One that came to set me free.
O' look you here, my dear dear religion;
Just look what you have done to me!