The itch that keeps on itching,
An absent pain, a phantom sting,
The illusion of mild suffering,
When in truth, you felt nothing.
The after-effect of a phantom bite,
That keeps you up in bed at nights,
Reminding you of a long lost fight
The stinger had won before taking flight.
From the stinger, the toxin seeps in,
To pollute the body from within,
A price you pay for the sum of your sins,
Can’t kill a phantom, no way to win.