Why can't I stop?

Once again

Broken hearts beating fast.

I feel insane

for letting this last.

You don't love me.

But I love you.

I should set myself free,

because none of this is true.

I'd give you it all
over and over
But I know i'll fall.
Yet I still want to be your lover.

Just one more kiss.
I'm setting myself up,
and i know this.
So, why can't I stop?

(..I worry for my wrists.)

-rachelleeashlee<3.

Love or Lust

Broken hearts beating fast,

Our bodies pressed together.

Hoping this moment will last,

Knowing this could end forever.

Clothes stripping, 

Heat rising.

Sheets flipping,

Love disguising.

My heart is in this,

but only mine,

and not his.

at least, he doesn't show a sign.

 I want to ask you

if it could be

that you love me, too.

'Baby, Do you love me?'

-rachelleeashlee<3.

Ventventvent.

I don't even have the patience to attempt a poem right now. But I need to write it out.

There was another fight in my house. and its ruined so much. i cant handle it. this is worse than when we pretended we were a family for our sanitys sake. nobodys talking to anybody now. i dont leave my room. i dont think dad and step mom are sleeping in the same room.
i hate her, yes, but this still fucking sucks!!!!! i want to scream. im barely hanging on to this 7 weeks 2 days. idk what to say because my mind is so fucking jumbled and i dont even know im just screaming and cussing and this is stupid fucking NONSENSE.

A Little Girl.

A little girl
once lived by me.
Each hair a curl,
pink dress flowing free.

I watched her grow up
as far back as my memory goes.
Then her world went corrupt,
and her life was no longer what her mother chose.

Her life went wrong,
and she fell down.
Each day was too long,
and all we ever saw was her frown.

Until the day
she closed her tired eyes,
her soul went astray,
and silenced were her cries.

One last breath to take,
And the shot is suicide.
The final decision is hers to make.
Lifeless she falls at her bedside.

The wind blows,
and she's finally free.
What nobody knows,
is that girl was me.

-rachelleeashlee<3.

Fighting this Addiction.

A craving for blood

seeking some sort of high?

a sweet red flood

relief shown with a sigh.

An addiction

a forbidden want.

Too many scars

only seem to taunt.

Into remission,

fearing relapse.

I can't fall back to tradition,

no more lines like little red roads on maps.

Falling asleep,

or into my past?

-rachelleeashlee<3.

*K, I know this is kinda crap. This is just what happened when I started typing with tears in my eyes and nobody to talk to. As of right now, I have not actually cut for 5 weeks 5 days. I've come close, but I still haven't. And this itself is its own chapter in my lifes story. 

Not a poem. More like.. venting(complaining/bitching more?)

I don't have the patience nor the ability to write a fucking poem right now. I'm stressed. and I feel like its insanity.
Cant people learn to leave me alone sometimes? Yeah, so Im alone a lot outside of school. So? Most people dont even fucking know that. I want loving people around me to love me, and I dont want to be annoyed and drooled over. People call me an attention whore because Im loud and yes I love being in the spotlight and I love talking and singing and such in front of people. Maybe I am an attention whore, whats it to ya? I like a certain kind of attention at certain times. and dont constantly bug me of whats wrong, when i say i dont want to talk about it i mean that. SO many people dont understand what "I dont want to talk about it." means.
Alright, so now it has been 5 weeks 4 days since i last cut. my wrists are clean. but i honestly dont know how long i can keep this up. im starting to think more and more about it, and i dont know if this is worth it. maybe my burdens are already built up to too much. all thats on my shoulders is sky high. and these scars scream at me like children searching for their mommys. am i just searching for my mommy? am i not actually trying to get off this shit hole planet for the sake of selfishness but literally to see my mommy again? or do i really crave the sight of bloody tear drops and skin screaming pain?
and now i dont know what to say anymore. ugh.

Update.

I've been suffering from writers block. :/.
I started to write a poem when I was on the airplane come back from my aunts in Reno.
Didn't finish it.
Now i'm really busy with my Musical Show Production show that's next week. and a lot of other things going on.
I'm stressed and not doing as well as it looks like.
kthanksbye.