Raised in Minneapolis, and currently living in Los Angeles, Melissa Morris is an amateur poet who finds writing to be a most rewarding release from her hectic "corporate life" as a sales and marketing director. This is her first time being published.


A grain of sand is all we are
it hurts to turn to glass
we change a little
and then we're changed a lot
seems hardly good enough
can't find the light that leads the way
it's wrapped in blankets
quilted with dubious verbosity
lack of sight and memory
reach tall and try to grab it
try to follow something anyway
give it one more pious chance
and maybe we will feel the empty
rising up and filling out
they said it overflows
and spreads into the crevices
contagious like the yellow plague
I'll just sit here with contempt
wishing for my limbs to melt
and turn to beveled glass
you just sit there with content
and wait to hang me on your Christmas tree

Copyright (c) 1999 by Melissa Morris


He's like the snow of dreary lies
Says I've never burned inside his eyes
I'm touched by the way he sinks
I move in the way he blinks
I'm lost on the wave he thinks

Always around when I'm away
A year of tomorrows with no todays
He laughs if I've ever cried
He thinks that I've never died
He looks like he might have tried

His words hang beside my head
And one by one my soul is fed
There's hope in the days I ache
Truth born from this life we fake
Heaven in the hell we make

It's so bright
It's so bright
When you know the days become nights

Copyright (c) 1999 by Melissa Morris

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