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No Man’s Land

She is finished; her mission done with ease

She feels great, grinning from ear to ear;

Her satisfaction exceeds everything; her joy.

She is programmed to kill;

To leave her victim paralysed with fulfilment

Tis the only thing she’s good at;

She executes her duty with professionalism;

Leaving her regulars wordless

She enjoys updating her chic,

Lest she be replaced in the service market.

Her technique, always refreshing;

You are guaranteed of a full package.

Nothing less than to expect; diversity always

Her patrons are left dazzled;

Snooping around wanting more

To them she is just a machine assembled to serve

They never notice her vulnerability and soft tissue

She looks rough no doubt; but she’s also weak.

Her spirit broken so many times

Like a wild horse; she refuses to be tamed now

She will never allow that side out in the open anymore

She does what she does; for it must be done

She is used to it now; she has accepted what others see to be a fact;

She is no man’s land…and can’t be blamed.

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