Numb. a poem for a lost friend, gagan...

Cleansing them from the blood tht has been spilled, my hands are rubbed raw as i wash them.
i wash them till some of my own blood breaks the surface; a small sacrifice of pain to repay past sins committed. i hold them under water that first runs hot and then cold.
till i am numb and no longer feel the stinging agony.

i am released, liberated, cut loose from my binds...
but there are still shallow marks around my wrists;
scars and cuts reminding me, like roads on a mad, and my hands are my life that i have lived.
proof of the work i have done, joy tat i have felt, loving touches and caresses...

i bleed no more for i am numb.
as i turn the faucet off and the last drops of life spill down the drain,
i am saddened as i hope, wish and wonder when i will ever feel again...

a response poem for "a blank verse" by gagan.