by valentinestavrou

it seems that ive gotten my words from my grandma

she says life is poetry
words cling from flowers
grow with the grass
hide in the rain
come from diseases
give birth when we’re in pain
go to churches&mosques&temples praying
& they cry, dear, when we cry
you think they have no feelings?
oh,they’re everywhere,
&as we live we breath them in
&then we let them out
when we smile with all our teeth