The Phantom Pain

Ahbab Alavi Ishan

Contains graphic descriptions and themes of death.
Reader discretion is advised.

The Phantom Pain - Illustration for Ishan

The sky was purple for some reason,
I suppose I am lucid dreaming and fully aware.
My cousin and I were walking; all I know is that it was a cold season.
His face told me not to leave me alone on such a night, his tone whispered “Beware”

He pulled me away from the middle of the road itself, as a car had just missed me and sped away.
On further inspection of the driver, my late father’s face showed itself, a face of nonchalance and lacking dismay.

In this world you cease to be, yet I feel your absence as if it’s a severed hand,
Since time is just a man made construct or an excuse for feigned misery,
I look everywhere oh so desperately, to pick up and reset the sands.

I stumbled into an abandoned tower, still heavily induced by inner monologue
In my head, guns and knives have replaced flowers.
Shed all the blood you can until you reach the inevitable epilogue.

To my surprise, the tower only holds mirrors,
No ghosts, no demons, only my reflection lies there.
The phantom pain of you appears to be my only terror,
Reality sinks in and I once again wish to be unaware.

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