I'm proud of myself
For seeing the truth.

Like excavating a great ruin
An archeologist of my own pain,
The more I dig up the more it hurts
Yet I know exactly where the answers lie.

Underneath the dirt and grime
The dust that clogs my lungs and throat
Until I can't even tell if I'm crying, because
My face is numb in the cold

My fingertips are cracked and
Bleeding, it's
Shattering
I'm losing rhythm

And yet now,
I'm on a peaceful plane ride home.
The white noise and warmth is soothing
As I relax into the padded seat.

I left a lot of bodies under the rubble.
But I am done grieving
For what I've found died a long time ago.