I may never be successful
should I feel like I'm supposed to?
I don't share the same ambitions
as many others do
slaving through their days
in a monetary excuse
I would rather die broke and lonely
loving what I pursue
than surrounded by acquaintances
loving that which isn't you.

I've noticed that my mustache grows in thicker on one side,
made to wonder if this blunder's due to my brother, how he died,
Never will my reddened beard grow in and lay with grace
because my brothers lifeless body layed a pressure on my face
Most men primp and think of happiness in mirrors and in breath
However, whenever I clean my face I'm forced to think of death,
(with the face of a brother I've never met)
So I celebrate life and do my best to think it limitless
Go out and do, create for you, make proud the worlds dead triplets

I am the living ghost of Joseph,
All the worlds dead triplets.

I've noticed that my beard grows thicker in just this tiny spot,
'Cause the way they lay, I cannot help but think a rather morbid thought,
The way you are is picked afar from waned or waxed moon,
but what happens there when you're prepared a rather taxed womb?
The newest of 8 darkened waters with no help to navigate,
You'll admit having dead brothers makes it harder to relate.
But they never were alive so I can't say I have regrets,
I must make with my life, for all the worlds dead triplets

I am the living ghost of Joseph,
All the worlds dead triplets.

My mother calls me her surprise and I think "jeezez kryst."
In honesty I'm accident, but the way you said it's nice.
I feel and see it differently inside my orange head,
But, that's just the way **** happens when you're born beside the dead.
You see, I was touched by death before I even knew of life,
I cuddled it and swam beside it up until the knife.
So death, with mercy, stays away and out of sight it gets,
for it knows I held it close, I live, a ghost, of my dead triplet.

I am the living ghost of Joseph,
All the worlds dead triplets.

But it can't last forever,
I've already lived too long,
So immortal I'm on paper
and in the wind in song.

I said it cannot last forever,
I should already be dead,
The world it has a shortage
of another orange head

I am the living ghost of Joseph,
My dead triplet.

So with all of that in mind, defined,
my chances should be none,
I never should have had a first,
so I make all my seconds battles won.

I am the living ghost of my brother Joseph,
and all the worlds dead triplets.

If you read my poetry my love
For they are conquering bereavement
To bring you back, my words are arranging a court of river
To sail you on the court my pens are breaking down and turning into a boat….
For you my love, I have learned dangers have no shadow
If a tragedy closes a door, it also opens a new door
For a memory is lost by another memory
Though you will live in my poetry century after century……