So what do we say to each other is the language of unspoken? The words are sweet; the space is bitter or is this just the them I’ve chosen.
ALETHEIA LIOLAOn my worst days, I give the devil hell. On my best day, I hold a light for God to dwell.
More Aletheia Liola Quotes
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He always preferred the way my eyes looked after they had cried. I wish he knew how fine they looked once he had said goodbye.
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The highest love. Highest power. I will let you in. Devour this anguish, I’m harboring, all to you, surrendering.
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I dragged my pain into the darkness, I carried it into the light – No matter where I choose to take it, This pain refuses to subside. I washed my sins off in the ocean, I prayed all my badness away, Whichever God I choose to worship, I cannot make my soul be saved.
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I think I may be in way over my head. I’ll learn how to breathe underwater instead.
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Trust insinuates that the human race is unfailing, faultless, flawless, and perfect.
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I survived the darkness. Crawled. Clawed. Endured. Untangled lies from truth. This wisdom is my sword.
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After the flood, the colors were brightened demand tears of pain to feel so enlightened. Lassoed hope from the clouds that caused it to rain, divine intervention to feel love again.
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I give forgiveness like salt and pepper in a restaurant – Turn my world upside down and it’ll pour out of me, flowing freely, until I’m empty.
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Our interpretations reflect our imperfections. We will always read between the lines, but we decide what we choose to find.
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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.
ALETHEIA LIOLA -
I think we all long for someone we can be disgustingly honest with, and for them to love us anyway, and stay.
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He dirtied my name with his dark and muddy lies. The earth he left grew flowers for the butterflies & now I thrive.
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Be aware of the judgments that you and others conjure. The words reflect the inner world; the doctrines that you sponsor.
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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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The only way I’ll ever choose to taste sweet love again, Is if he tells me, he loves my mind, and the way I use my pen.
ALETHEIA LIOLA







