Phantom Dialogue

Are you real… or memory's shell?

Do you speak… or do I compel?

Whispers fall like winter rain,

Echoes drift inside my brain.

Silent mouths with words I know,

But no one's there — it's all shadow.

They say my name with voices torn,

Like faded tape I can't ignore.

Each phrase I hear, I speak again,

A loop of lies I call a friend.

Every question answers me,

In voices no one else can see…

I’m trapped in phantom dialogue,

With ghosts behind a mental fog.

They talk me down, they pull me through —

But I don't know if they're ever true.

Words repeat like sacred sin,

And silence screams beneath my skin.

Who am I without their sound?

A silent shell that’s breaking down.

They tell me truths I shouldn't trust,

Then leave me shaken in the dust.

I write replies in shattered script,

To voices fading as I slip.

I swear they meant to comfort me,

But nothing here is ever free.

Every word a subtle knife,

That cuts between what's real and life.

Are you me... or someone else?

Do I need help... or just myself?

If I reply, do I consent...

To live with what they never meant?

Phantom dialogue, divine and cruel,

Makes the broken mind its tool.

They guide, they haunt, they fill the void —

But leave behind a voice destroyed.

I call for help, but only find…

Reflections in a fractured mind.

If no one's listening when I speak,

Was I the ghost this whole damn week?

I hear you still…

I answer still…

I am…no longer still.