This poem is about you

You
Yeah, you
this poem is about you
Yes, you, right now
I'm reading your mind
You're thinking
"oh, holy crap, I think the poet is actually reading my mind."
And now you're thinking
"um, wow, this is creepy"

But that's as far as I can go
because you don't let me
see what you keep behind
all those masks you wear

You hide the truth
you take it and you sew it up
with not truth
string them all together
into stories
so I'm left
digging through
hoping the pieces I like best
are reality
hell, are even written by you

What about this poem?
did you write this one, pretending to be me?
Or did I write it pretending to be you?
Do you know what line I'm going to type next
because you can read my mind
not that it's hard, my mind is an open book
(to you anyway)
and I know you're out there taking notes
hiding behind all sorts of masks
real masks, fancy masks, party masks
drug induced, halloween after party masks
I hide behind masks too sometimes
You've seen them
But you know which is the real me

Because before all this
I had no idea, no fucking clue
and I sat around, in my pjs
babbling about reality and black holes
maybe a digital world where
neutrinos go faster than light
and you saw me
and you're still
trying to read my mind

it's pretty fucked up, my mind
I mean, look at what the hell I'm doing
what is it exactly that I am doing?
chasing a ghost? a wisp of somebody I used to know...
thinking he'll...come out of hiding
and take off the masks
if I just keep chasing a little longer

or are you chasing me
it doesn't feel like it
maybe that's why you set it up the way you did
make me feel like I'm
you
for those years
when I didn't notice
lost in my sad, mundane world
where I was ignored
disrespected
talked down to

the last few years
were only bearable
because you were in them
and now you're off hiding
maybe writing a poem right this second
maybe the same poem as this one
because we're that much alike

But unlike you, I'm making it
very clear to you
that this poem
is about you.
Yes, YOU.