Um, Theres Mistakes In Your Clarity Poem by Nicholas Neato

Ghosts on the other side
Of a white picket fence
Ideas of what 'I' used to be
Cloaked in sheets of regret
I'm staring at my demons
But they only seem to think I'm dead
I've now seen the color of my sins
Innocence blue stained murder red

These numbers mean nothing
When you think with your heart
I stepped out of my head
Then I took it apart
I admire the teachers
Who's words become art
All we have is a name
But I guess it's a start