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.
It is very hard to hit the save poem button....... there's that sinking feeling in my gut....... is this too personal? You tell me.
This may be the most important poem I've ever written. I didn't even know I felt half of this stuff until they were all in a notebook together.
See the thing is, if you're bearing multiple children and one of them is miscarried, the chances that the rest of the babies surviving is, well, not favorable.
And I didn't even show up on any ultrasounds.
Gives me a new outlook and even though it's a morbid poem, it makes me feel more gifted than anything else in the world. Makes me wanna hug my twin because I cannot hold my triplet. We don't even get along.
RIP Joseph.