The Phantom Pain

Prickling sensation in parts I cut off,
I sense- I sense pain where I should feel numbness,
I perceive fire when I should feel coldness,
I hear the thumping of my blood,
In parts I killed,
In body parts I amputated.
I breathe in life,
In parts, I should have felt death.

How could I feel pain,
If there is none left to perceive?
How could I feel movement,
If there is none left to flail?
How could I feel ache,
If there is none left to ache?
How could I bleed,
If there is none left to squeeze blood?

A pain cruises the parts I cut off.
Life springs in the dead layers.
I thought it was over,
When I killed it all.
I thought it was enough,
I thought dying once was all I needed,
To quit the hide and seek,
To stop the denial and the facade.

But then,
Even when there is none to feel the pain,
There is the illusion to perceive the ache.
Even when all is lost,
There is always some left,
For the phantom pain.