To amputate a phantom limb
involves a certain suffering
in finding out how little pain
accompanies the sudden loss
of where there never was a gain,
or really, anything at all.
Just something that you thought
was there. An attribute
you always had
depended on - and never let
it let you down. But now you know,
the drop,
the ball.
No one was playing catch with you
at all.
It's just
your mind, that it was in.
So all along, it was but prayer
or placebo - your faith,
your sin. You were the one
who counted every win, in game
no other joined. About something
no other cared.
There was no wrong,
just phantom right.
Of which,
they were the champion.
And won, somehow
- Just every
single
time.
but
it was only you,
to cheer them on, and
they did not know why
or how.
So everything
is just as was.
No wound to close,
no stitch, no fuss
You can't make up the difference, now.
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