I am sorry, I am

I am sorry, I am.
Oh the cloud of pores
that pours for a blind me,
You needn't rain. I do.
What I don't
I need to.
Guilt, shame and fear
are my three distant vices.
The distance makes them and me enemies.
I'm closest to the shadow I inflate,
so I'm a shadow lover:
Full of light, but only to cast the long, shrinking, lightless shadow.
Nonetheless, because of it, I'm not alone.
I'm selfish.
And I am.
I am sorry, I am.