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 LIOLAI 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.
More Aletheia Liola Quotes
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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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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 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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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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Sobriety is something I’ll never reach. There’s always another day, another urge to defeat.
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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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Truth as my armour. My sword as my pen. I’ll do what I will to prevail again. Shining so brightly so they shot me down. Did they not know how hard I would bounce?
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Clutching a burning match, he said “look, and she’ll explode”. Ignored the gas he poured; his match caused my implode.
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I survived because the fire I have inside me burns brighter than the fire that surrounds me forever thriving with blazing vitality.
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We shined a light through our flaws to our internalistic plea. Emphasized the healing that shall set our lost souls free. We were a brief reflection of what we should not be.
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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.
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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.
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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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Perception is the paintbrush. The reality, the canvas. You are the artist. Create purposefully.
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I think I may be in way over my head. I’ll learn how to breathe underwater instead.
ALETHEIA LIOLA