Who is the 'you' that singers sing too?
The 'you' that sends poets diving through vast oceans for poetic pearls?

You're the rain on windows late at night, natures own lullaby.
You're the sun rays in which I bask, you make me feel alive.

You is a collective term.
An indistinguishable figure, a faceless being.
'You' are a silent understanding. Universal.

You hold the promise pleasure and pain of all the bodied 'you's that tarnished your name.
'You' are the silence we scream because the world talks to loud to hear us.

'You' are the nameless, holding up all the 'me's' that aren't strong enough to say this.
'You' are the silence we crave when to speak their names can only pain us.