A Poem by Rainee Whiting


Morning light pierces trough the drapes,

particles of dust, twirl in the air.

Tiny fingerprints reach for the dancing flecks,

a little girl with dark-eyes and auburn hair.


Far different from the other six,

this little one heard voices in her head.

She often played with the monsters that hid,

within the closets and underneath her bed.


Those around her thought her peculiar,

as she was often found alone,

hiding in a space between the lilac bush,

and the red brick of her childhood home.


Her fingertips would press letters into dirt;

names of those she could not see.

she never feared the darkness that surrounded her,

she was content to just… well be.


But this little girl now a woman,

what’s left of her sanity she desperately grips,

but the monsters she once played with,

attempt to pry loose her fingertips.

© 2017 Rainee Whiting

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Perhaps they still want her to come and play?

Posted 1 Year Ago

although I think it could be better, this is the type of poems I like.
Thanks for sharing.

Posted 3 Years Ago

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2 Reviews
Added on October 27, 2017
Last Updated on October 27, 2017


Rainee Whiting
Rainee Whiting

Las Vegas, NV

Brilliant foliage extends from the branches of my family tree, an over grown topiary containing a hundred known and gifted writers. The sap that fills the limb in which my name is carved contains the .. more..

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A Poem by Rainee Whiting