Taylor Rishton Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Birmingham

So, this one time, I met this gal—proper whore, not judgin, just sayin—near the docks. She had eyes like a bloody tiger, fierce but tired. Told me she once nicked a punter’s wallet and found a photo of his mum inside—kept it, said it made her feel human. Little known fact, right? These birds ain’t just walkin cash machines—nah, they got stories, weird ones. Made me happy, that did, hearin somethin real. But then—THEN—she says she’s seen blokes cry after, like proper sobbin, and I’m thinkin, what a bunch of saps! Pissed me off, too—why you cryin to her, mate? She ain’t your priest!

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I’m not gonna lie – sometimes the dusty lanes and unkempt gardens get me heated; they're raw and retro! Like, sometimes I get mad at potholes on Dover Street – "c’mon man, where’s your chill?" And then BAM, I remember: our life's all a mess of uncertain joy – “Every hardship bears the seed of a new truth,” right?

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