Peace for a Tortured Soul

His childhood was sold to John Q. Public,

For a price the boy could have cared less for.

He sang love songs in his sweet childhood voice,

When all the girls should still have had cooties.

I saw him as a child then on American Bandstand,

Then saw him again and was mesmerized,

As he glided across the stage, as if on air,

At the celebration of Motown twenty-five.

The magic was that Michael was a tease,

His movements were perfection, sexy, smooth,

But he only showed a bit of the move,

He kept you on the edge of your seat,

Always wanting more, wanting to see that one again.

From the pure and innocent ballad, ‘Ben”,

To the heart pounding, pure sex of ‘Dirty Diana’,

Michael’s music moved one and invoked emotion,

And I believe, in spite of the rumors,

That ‘Cry’, and “Man in the Mirror’,

Spoke more of who he truly was-the king of Pop,

The icon, Michael Jackson.