Pompei

I'm sorry.

For all the things I didn't do,

and the useless words I said.

Maybe, I'm even more sorry for,

the things I did do, and the words I

didn't say.

I deserve this purge,

this cleansing by the mountain.

Death,

I welcome you with arms wide open,

Waiting, yearning, hoping.

Ashes pour down from the sky,

And lodge in undeserving human eyes.

Someday,

longer and farther away

than my father's father,

Someone might learn that,

the truth doesn't pick and choose.

It destroys everything but itself.