The Trashcan Queen

She was tall and thin,

old and grey.

When I looked at her my blood ran cold.

She had been kicked & beaten,

battered and bruised.

Her name was midnight,

always in the light.

She had scars and marks,

and had been far.

One day I found her crying in the park.

She had told me,

“Honey, I’m alright.  I’m a little down on my luck. 

Take a lesson from me child:

 Never give yourself wholly to a man,

they always end up screwing you over.

For you see, my child,

 I was a girl who fell in love with a boy.

 Life was perfect for me. 

Little did I know I was sleeping with a stranger. 

He took everything from me,” she cried & cried,

Well not everything.  I am royalty you know.”

I played along.

“Royalty you say, lady midnight?

 Are you as grand as a princess with hair of gold?

 Or, are you as rich as a Queen?”

“Didn’t you know?  Dear Child, I am the trashcan Queen. 

I have no wealth, no silver, no gold,

but I have a place to call home. 

Where I am the President, the dictator,

 and the Queen in all.  Where I am free to be me, crazy & purple.

For you see I like purple. 

What I wouldn’t give,

 though,

to have a wall painted purple!”