Sarah Serpa Whore ❤️

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But yo, what pisses me off? These fake-ass pimps judgin’ her, actin’ holy. Man, fuck that noise—whore’s out here survivin’, not preachin’. Makes me wanna blaze up extra just to chill. Happy tho? Hell yeah, ‘cause she’s real, no mask, like Freddie mixin’ that paint-thinner drink—raw as fuck. Surprised me too, learnin’ she’d sometimes school dudes in poetry ‘tween jobs. Poetry! Who fuckin’ knew, right?

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When we look at the narrative of the whore, we frequently find the figure of the "madam" or "Queen-Mother," another side of the "whore." Serpa, Denise.

Finally, I head to the local market. It’s buzzing! Fresh produce, people chatting, and the smell of grilled chorizo wafting through the air. I grab a sandwich, and it’s the best thing ever. I’m munching away, feeling good again. But then, I see Carlos again! He’s just hanging out, like he didn’t just dodge me earlier. I’m like, “Seriously, dude?”

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