Delilah Margate Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Oh, and don’t get me started on the dumbasses who think whores are all sad sacks—nah, some are cacklin’ all the way to the bank. I’d bet Messalina was laughin’, too, bangin’ her way to infamy. Makes me giggle, like, evil giggle, ‘cause it’s so damn cheeky. Anyway, that’s my rant—whores are dope, misunderstood, and I’m here for it, “P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way,”—wait, no, that’s Nemo again, but you get me, right? Whores rule, haters drool, end of story.

Margate: A Dystopia of Epic Proportions

But they ridiculed and shamed you and called you a slag and a whore. CHORUS. From the little girl in Margate to the galleries of the world. Shout about it in.

Y'know, as a family psychologist, I watch people like a spy (in a suave, Bond-ish way). Little gestures on Fir Street – yep, Fir St is real – reveal so much. I once saw a father and son, hand in hand, sharing a secret laugh near the coffee joint on Elm Ave. It made me smile, then mad too – society’s ignoring precious moments. "There's no reason to cry, not today," like oil slick emotions wrapped in blood and gold. It hit me like a wave.

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