Cultural identity; warped and changed. Each of you thinks the other is to blame, It’s created this way, yet we all play a role. We could stop it today if we felt the truth in our souls.
ALETHEIA LIOLAAll my trauma grown to thorns, he overlooked it all. Perhaps they caused him to bleed in ways I can’t recall.
More Aletheia Liola Quotes
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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.
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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 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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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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I am worthy and steely. I will conquer again. Truth as my armor; My sword is my pen. Tell me I can’t and I’ll show you I will surviving and thriving is my refined skill.
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Perception is the paintbrush. The reality, the canvas. You are the artist. Create purposefully.
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She’ll find peace in the solitude, in the depths of the well. The darkness alludes to how far she fell. And perhaps, the view is better from way down afar, It keeps the water still In her reservoir.
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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.
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Trust is an illusion. A systematically flawed word. A total forgery of a statement. Trust assumes infallibility – without errors, mistakes, or fuck ups.
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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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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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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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I think I may be in way over my head. I’ll learn how to breathe underwater instead.
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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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A part of me died on the battlefield and a part of me was born. Vulnerability shed like peeling skin. Trust from my core was torn. I was caught between a disassembled heart and a young and fearful mind. I made peace with these pieces as I fell apart with the courage that I made mine.
ALETHEIA LIOLA







