John

So listen up. Ok read, you know what I mean
I have a problem, there's this guy in my head who mocks everything I do.
He's arrogant, stubborn and relentless.
Every time I'm a little droopy, he says 'boo hoo' so you think you have the worst problems in the world?
I say to him 'take a hike buddy, this doesn't concern you.
He smirks and says , of course it does.

So for fucks sake lets call this guy 'JOHN'.
John's a relentless douche bag know it all.
Arggg Annoying idealist sitting on a pedestal.
A leech.

John's the kinda guy who's always in your head
questioning your every move, mocking your groove.
He's unsatisfied and an idealist.
Well actually saying that he's an idealist should make the unsatisfied thing self-explanatory.
John's a fucking retard who doesn't know its wrong to pry .

He's always looking in from the outside.
In his world there's good and bad
right and wrong
black and white
There's just no room for Grey.

I'm all about the Grey.
Struggling to get it right.
Make the whole drama thing work out.
I'm the stage actor, messing up my lines on show day.
Quivering in front of the audience
Not John!. Certainly not John.
John's pro. John is Hollywood.
John is mayor of Tinsel town.
John is the hero.

I'm the stunt double.
Fuck John.
He shows up, I take the fall.
I bruise. He gets the glory
He gets the drama.
I get reality.
I don't get a re-take.

Everyone loves John.
I hate John.
John is what I see in the mirror.
Or may be John sees me.
I don't know.
But John knows. Of course he does.

Fucking schizo... he blurts.
"Says you" I say.

One thing I can't deny, John help's me face the world.
But its John's world that I'm facing.
What about my world?

John smirks and says the world's not ready for you, or may be you aren't ready for the world
"These are my people. This is my story. This my house.
Where are you?
who are you?
where are your people?" he asks inquiring with a grin that makes me want to hurl .

John becomes silent.
The conversation is over. As usual , with a question.

He always leaves me thinking, wondering.

Where is my house?
Is this my story?

Where are my people?