i. Cut your heart open
Take a knife, twist your heart open. Watch as everything you have bottled up
spill on the floor. Break it into pieces and trample on the glasses. Listen to
what it’s trying to tell you. Uncover every hidden desire and side-swept secrets.
For once in a long time, be honest with yourself. You’ve spent so much time
locking everyone out. You’ve even kept your own identity from yourself. This is
how you start writing a poem: Cut your heart open, be honest with yourself.

ii. Give yourself the freedom to feel
Face yourself. Touch your reflection if that’s what makes you real. Remind
yourself of your inner core and get rid of your inability to feel. For so long
you’ve masked the pain, ignored the numbness and forgot about the rain.
Feel the anger running in your veins because of all the time you’ve wasted
on someone who never deserved your love. Let a river’s load of tears gush
out your eyes, feel the despair of how you have loved but lost. Feel the loathe
you have for yourself because you’re so pathetic; because no matter what
you’d do anything to have him back. Clutch your chest as you feel the
physical ache in your heart because it’s broke and distorted in a way
it’s never been before. This is how you make a poem great: Give
yourself the freedom to feel, share with the world your raw emotions.

iii. Take the bitterness and turn them into pretty words
Take a paper and pen. Translate the way you feel onto a clean sheet of paper.
This is the only time you’ll ever have a clean start again. Take all the words
you have at the back of your mind and write them down. Let the pain and the ache,
the anger and the hurt, make their way on the paper. Don’t think too much
about it, the words you have they’re all who you are. Tell the story you’ve
kept in for so long and let them glide from the pen through the paper. Write
all you think that is necessary. Don’t think about what people will say. Because
a poem is a poem, it’ll be bitter and pretty. That’s the glory in the poem, it’s
ambiguity. This is how you write a poem: You stay bitter yet it will come out
pretty. No matter the bitterness, you always have the ability to make it pretty.

Far from sympathetic,
No fond memories
Of me as empathetic.

Some emotions
Seem like distant cousins
I've never met with.

This poem is like one large knot.
I'm failing to unravel my thoughts;
Struggling to get my point across.

This poem isn't right.
Mulling the feelings over all night.
Revising only to continue to revise.

This poem isn't what I want it to be.
Typing it out before pressing delete.
Leaving each line incompl-