Don’t let the ugly in others kill the beauty in you. Let it inspire you to conjure a worthwhile view. Observe their darkness-like space in between the stars. Acknowledged, yet dazzled with the bright beauty of ours. Their darkness is worthy of unconditional love. Just give their ugly, mercy.
ALETHEIA LIOLADon’t let the ugly in others kill the beauty in you. Let it inspire you to conjure a worthwhile view. Observe their darkness-like space in between the stars. Acknowledged, yet dazzled with the bright beauty of ours. Their darkness is worthy of unconditional love. Just give their ugly, mercy.
More Aletheia Liola Quotes
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All my trauma grown to thorns, he overlooked it all. Perhaps they caused him to bleed in ways I can’t recall.
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Abstruse spite bleeds from their mouth. I hear the venom, It’s screaming so loud, And yet so benign Reaction, not roused Their “nasty”, so nice The beast lost its shroud.
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I can feel her resurrecting. The one he thought he had killed. Strength realised in her resting. It was worth all the blood spilled.
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I have a habit of seeing through the cloak that they wear to hide what truly resides in their soul. I have a habit of tearing out skeletons from the blackest of closets; although it’s never the goal. I have a habit of forcing others to look in the mirror, at the darkest parts of their soul. And I no longer want to play the role.
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Perception is the paintbrush. The reality, the canvas. You are the artist. Create purposefully.
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My mother used to say “Don’t put off until tomorrow what you can do today” I say What can you do today to make the world a better place?
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Move from reactionary; seek neutrality. It’s the only way to truly be free.
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Only after you have fallen to the pits of despair, can you fly to the horizon of hope.
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How do we trust others when we can’t even trust ourselves?
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Evil exists in the shadows of our world and I’m realizing that without the darkness there would be no light. We need both to stay alive.
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How many wounds can you convert to wisdom? How much pain to power can you permute and fathom? This is your story; rewrite how it’s written.
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I survived the darkness. Crawled. Clawed. Endured. Untangled lies from truth. This wisdom is my sword.
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I compare myself to the leaves; dead, yet dancing in the breeze. Is it meant to hurt this much, falling from the trees?
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On my worst days, I give the devil hell. On my best day, I hold a light for God to dwell.
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Lies feel like nails on a chalk board scraping down the marror of my spine and truth feels like harmonious melodies gifted from the hands of the divine.
ALETHEIA LIOLA