*sticks, sticks, sticks; snare, snare; bass, bass, bass, bass; high hat, high hat, high hat*(un-edited)

Out of all the questions
Out of all the combinations of words possible
Out of all the better questions I could be asked
I hear one more then any other
“Who is the you that you are talking about?”
Well let me tell you
A dirty little secret
There is no you!
You doesn’t exist
You is made up in my head
You is that perfect thing
For that moment
When you dive into
The roller-coaster ride
The up and downs
The twist and loops
The place that the writer
Brings you as your eyes
Fly across he words and lines
But the you is not real
The you is the perfect person
The perfect moment
The kind of people that ask this question
They don’t want that answer
They want to hear the answer
“The you is you”
But let me tell you the truth
“THE YOU IS NOT
WILL NOT
HAS NEVER
WILL NEVER
BE YOU”
See these people are full of themselves
But the truth is
If the you was you
I would have said you
Would have written you
NOT YOU
Stop wishing things that aren’t real
I make these things
To deal with reality
They are not real
They are a dream
They are more distance then that
A dream of a dream
(I know at now your confused but the you I adress in this poem is a group not just one person so don't think that it mean YOU)