Where Is Your Fear Born? (Poem)

There's a world that your reltatives have all seen
because they've worn that shirt with the blue floral print,
and drank from glasses rimmed in oil.
It's an island where you'll never be
'cause you refuse to let things go,
the things that don't really matter
all keep you from getting on the boat.
You see the bones behind each face
like they're trying to kill your liberty.
When someone offers you a hand
you slash it with your blade and scream
"You can't tell me who I am or what to do!"