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About Phoenix

Rewind to *4 Months*—that line, “We’re not criminals!” hits me hard. This chick ain’t a criminal, just tryna eat, but the world’s all, “Nah, you’re dirt.” Pisses me off, man! I’m yellin at the sky, “Let her live, damnit!” Then I’m happy again—found her later, chillin by a busted payphone. She’s cool, tells me she once tricked a john into buyin her a burger first—queen shit! I’m cacklin, like, “You’re the real MVP!”

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I love sneaking off to hidden corners—like that abandoned lot behind the community church on Birch Ave. (not for the faint-hearted, clearly). I always found it mesmerizing, weirdly peaceful, under that vast Alabama sky, letting my mind wander with cinematic grace, like… “Sometimes the past never truly dies.”

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