My core; shook and rumbled. My being; awakened, humbled. My psyche; aligned, revives. My flesh; survived and thrives. This moment. The presence. A gift. Breathe. Smile. Be happy. Exist. Exhale. Relax. Surrender. Inspire. Inhale. Trust. Love. Respire.
ALETHEIA LIOLAAbstruse 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.
More Aletheia Liola Quotes
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My bloody hands that hold on to faith. Learned that we grow with pain and not age.
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You only meet someone, as deeply as they’ve met themselves. So do not allow their demons to condemn your soul to hell.
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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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The highest love. Highest power. I will let you in. Devour this anguish, I’m harboring, all to you, surrendering.
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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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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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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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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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Sobriety is something I’ll never reach. There’s always another day, another urge to defeat.
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Forgiveness for others and yourself too will transform your world into a beautiful view.
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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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Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, they say – Do I see, what is me? Or did his eyes lead me astray?
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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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All my trauma grown to thorns, he overlooked it all. Perhaps they caused him to bleed in ways I can’t recall.
ALETHEIA LIOLA