A Poem.

I don’t personally believe in god

But I sometimes think I see him in you,

In the ways you sing to the birds

Or treat other people,

And for a…

A book review

Honestly, this book was just a little too white-savior-ish for me and I was kind of disappointed in myself for continuing to read it even though there was something off about it.

While I enjoyed the stories of heroism about slaves during the civil rights era, I think the audacity to compare his endeavors in child-trafficking to the likes of Harriet Tubman is entirely tone-deaf and off-putting.

The way he talks about expensive expeditions to other countries and strike teams and complex, high stakes, undercover missions, seems to glamorize these situations and validate having a white-savior complex. Why does he have to coordinate with police in exotic third-world countries along the equator to fight child/sex trafficking? …

A Poem.

for centuries women have fought
tooth and nail to be able to take care
of themselves because it is a privilege.
when you can change your own oil and
fix your own plumbing
you don’t have to worry about
being stuck with a man
who beats you into submission.
women who can change tires
and gouge eyes out don’t waste time
covering bruises with foundation
or hiding dollar bills between pages of books
in hopes that one day they’ll have enough
to change their name in a new town.
not all men are like this.
just enough for me to be afraid.
to clutch my keys between my fingers
whenever i leave my house alone.
enough for me to invest in pepper spray.
i haven’t always known how to take care of myself.

A Poem.

I have forgotten how to be vengeful how to weave webs of hatred and malice. I have also forgotten the sound of your voice, though I don’t think the two…

A Poem.

the clouds are thinning, are you getting nearer? they say you can’t find someone to love if you don’t believe in god, but i believe in you. can that please…

5/5 Would Recommend to A Stranger in an Alley

I do my best not to read the reviews or synopsis of a book before reading the book itself. For me, judging a book solely on its cover is an act of rebellion. It’s how I contribute to the ongoing revolutions against the society we have created. Lee Miller would have done the same.

I would die for this book. Lee Miller could throw me off a bridge and I would say thank you. Same with Whitney Scharer.

What a beautiful story of love and light and growth and Paris. A tale about a woman who came into herself by realizing that maybe nobody ever knows who they are, and daring to belong solely to herself. A story about a woman who was entirely her own, and accepted nothing less than what she deserved. …

A Poem.

and here we are again trying to do the same damn thing in a slightly different manner dancing to a slightly different beat breaking my back to give you space…

A Poem.

I want to write something new but my body has forgotten how the words are hiding with the sun in the spring the words are hiding with my mother in…

A Poem.

He comes and goes as he pleases.
They all do, but him especially.
The goopy man who stretches out
from inside the shadows,
with green skin and that long face.

A Poem.

America the great?
America the cis-gendered, able-bodied, white man
with a superiority complex.

Land of the free? No. Land of those who live in a constate state of fear…


Hannah Katelyn


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