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 LIOLAThe child within; raised voice; fast heart; flinches. Flight response, with an attitude and broken hinges. The child within; tiptoes; eggshells. Heaven; hell. Still, she finds a quiet place, safe and tranquil; dwell.
More Aletheia Liola Quotes
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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 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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Trust insinuates that the human race is unfailing, faultless, flawless, and perfect.
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Endless consumption will not make you feel whole suffer, stained items are not good for the soul.
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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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My bloody hands that hold on to faith. Learned that we grow with pain and not age.
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Have faith in the fall. Sometimes life knocks us down so that we can discover what resides at the bottom of it all.
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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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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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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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Trust assumes loyalty; and loyalty in the true sense of the word, the infinite, devoted kind of loyalty – that kind of loyalty doesn’t exist anymore.
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Wound to wisdom, pain to power. A seed of grief, now time to flower.
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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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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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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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