play with my fire .

ever thought you could stab someone with another human being ?
weaves . nails . belly button rings & shiny things .
past late night creeps used as an edge to carve it into a shank .
ever thought someone could be the ammunition for a disaster ?
a grenade filled with fitted hats, cologne, and basketball shorts . . .
the handle pulled and landing in your lap .

yea, where im from ... we call that baggage .

we try to move on in life and these dangerous shanks & grenades tip toe there way into your new relationship . They send a text . They aim us . They see you at a party, a kickback, walking to the store . Then that shxt blows up . It scrapes our necks . . . reminds us of the pain , the turmoil, where you don't wanna be ... or where you do . That's the funny thing about baggage . We like to pretend like everything in that bag was bad , we like to be in denial .

Little do we know, messing with baggage is like playing with fire ... sooner or later, you'll have third degree burns on your fingertips . I know plenty of girls who think they can tamper with their past just a little and that grenade blows up . They start texting cordially , then everyday, then they forget about all the lies, and cheating, and screaming . I know plenty of guys who dip their toes in baggage and pull em back out with bloody nubs instead lol . I equate baggage with dangerous weapons 'cause half the time they know what they're doing . THEY WANT YOU BACK , duh .

hey, sometimes it's worth it to resolve what you think is worth resolving . other times, you're left bruised, scarred & without the person who mattered most . . .

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