Residue; Nero

I thought I’d gone beyond the fire, yet I—herein remain. I wear my guilt through hope and mire, beneath familiar rain. I speak of growth and etched-out bruise, yet fall to old refrain. As if to fall in love with rue, I trace its ghostly chain. And wear my mask beneath it all, to hide the bleeding pain, It seems that change is just desire that I cannot attain. I dream a piece of heaven's bliss that comes within my name, I dream to touch which I have missed But I remain...