She wakes at six, a soldier’s pride,
Yet dodging texts like enemy fire with stride.
Discipline sharp, routine on point,
But replying? Nah, won’t even anoint.
Her thumb trained in stealth, like a commando ghost,
Evading my message like it’s classified post.
No salute, no signal, just tactical ignore,
She’s on a mission to reply nevermore.
So here’s to the General...
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