Pea

It feels like there's a giant rock under these mattresses. It all started when it was raining, The water poured down my face and arms and chilled me to the bone. I wanted to go home, But it was far, far away. There was no way I'd make it today. I knocked on the giant wooden door. The castle guards answered it, Wrinkled their noses at my messy hair And my soaked, ripped clothes. Screw you, too. I carefully stepped onto the marble tiles, The guards asked if I'd be here a while. I nodded, but I felt really sick. Today wasn't supposed to go like this. The king and his family invited me to dinner. The prince himself approved of my demeanor but I was really just there to get out of the rain. As long as it was dry, it was all the same To me. They asked me from where I hailed, I jokingly told them I just came from jail. The blank stares told me that the joke didn't go over well. They prepared a bed for me, But when I walked into the room, what do I see But a giant pile of mattresses That almost reach the gilded ceiling. What the heck is this. I felt my irritation spike, I just wanted a bed for the night. The queen smiled in a proper way, And at that moment, I really didn't want to stay. But there was nowhere else to go, And I didn't want to be out there alone. Now I'm laying on a swaying pile Of old and tired mattresses, Listening to the empty echo Of the rain On stained-glass window panes. I've been laying here for a while. I can't sleep due to the giant lump Right under my back, Like a boulder or something. I can't believe how they're treating me. A serving girl quietly opens the door. It's the middle of the night, and she tiptoes Like she's snuck into bedrooms before, The occupants still sleeping. How could she think I'm sleeping like this? But she carefully folds a dress on the nightstand, Clearly something for me to wear tomorrow. Her kindness moves me. No one else has treated me like a human being. I watch her disappearing back longingly As the door closes with a gentle click. I wish she'd come back. I'd like to thank her For actually caring for me enough To not disrupt my sleep. Unlike the queen, who set this up. I know because of the way she smirked When I carefully climbed the leaning ladder That lead to the top of this mess of springs and stuffing. I feel the anger build in me. It's time to have a word with the queen. I throw open the door and the echoing rage Screams along the gilded cage Of this French-Style castle's marble walls. It doesn't take me long at all to find The girl that just left my room behind And ask her where the queen sleeps. Her trembling finger points and I sweep Down the long hall with portraits hung. The queen's gonna feel like a pile of dung When I'm through with her. I start to shriek as the door comes open, Words like hospitality, mattresses, lump, and broken, The latter referring to what I'd do If something better didn't come through. Of course, they threw me into cold mud With a very final and indignant thud Of the giant wooden door behind me. I lay down and sob openly. Until I hear a small, quiet creak. The serving girl stands in the rain And looks at me with obvious pain. I look back with fierce pride; Even in the mud I have nothing to hide. She walks to me, she holds a cloth, And wipes my face with gentle thought. I take her warm hand in mine, And our trembling frames Walk together into the rain.