They never gave you a chance to cry.

They’d laugh when you’d break down;  and then, I would ask Why?

They’d make their jokes; and laugh their laughs

The laughs came from the have nots, and even from the haves.

You stole the stage, while doing your dance;  and people took it for granted.

That you were still, a, human being, while your name was, being chanted.

They gotta say it, “You’re gone Mike.  You’re not coming back.  You’re destined, for the soil.

Only then, will they think of, all of your pain, and, your turmoil.

Only then do they weep at you;  but mostly at themselves be-cause, they know you didn’t, get the life you deserved, and when they say “The King Of Pop”, first they gotta say, “He Was”!

You were a person.  You were violated, misread, and criticized.

Magazines, whenever they could, drenched you, with their lies.

Jokes, were a tower, its bricks fell upon you;

Because you kept personal, and prized your private life, like most, of us do.

But you lied there and took it----lied there and faked it;  and wished, you could be free.

And now you are----free from the pain----free, from the, misery.

No more accusations.  No more doubts.  No more rage.

No more attempts or conspiracies, to put you, in a cage.

You are free, to be “that” Michael.  That some, of us know.

That wish, they could see, at least, one more show.

Funny, how the dirt, about you, can change thought.

And then so suddenly, you’re gone;  but will not be forgot.