Talking to a stone.

Who you are eludes me like I’m at a magic show.

  You are my creative demise.

I try to find you through thick clouds of panic,

  But I only find your disguise.

I go deep inside to question the truth

  Which one of you is real?

Is it the stranger, distant and aloof?

  Or the one I can really feel?

Are they both you?

  If so, who am I?

Do they stick to each other like glue?

  Can I see them with my eyes?

Will I ever know you?

  Are you capable of being known?

I don’t know how to access you

  When you sit there like a stone.