This child was groomed from six years old to join his brothers' band,
a choice bestowed and threatened by his father's vicious hand.
Too Young to understand life's joy, his Childhood lost in fear,
instead was poised for greater things beyond his lowly sphere.
Behind the Mask, he took the lead and spun his magic charm
with youthful rhythmic dance moves that would captivate, disarm.
In bold, eye-catching fashion, This Is It, they would arrive -
these brothers crafted perfectly and called The Jackson Five!
Though inequality was rife and Black or White still reigned,
they'd tour and enter contests in whichever joint remained.
In Demon Speed their path was set with Michael as their star,
We're Almost There, to Rock with You, this act was going far!
And Workin' Day and Night, with heart, this whirlwind on the stage,
would stunningly transform himself, belie his tender age.
At thirteen he'd go solo, heralding A Brand New Day.
This Time Around was Michael's own, his limelight here to stay.
The Seventies would open up another world of fame
with record deals that magnified his talent and his name.
This boyhood idol swept along, still spinning in his dream,
was caught between his father's belt and love-struck teenage Scream.
Behind the enigmatic Smile, his Ghosts would haunt this lad,
reminding of oppressive taunts* and image he was Bad.
To swathe his wounds, misjudgement lay in surgery and pain,
believing in a racist myth that love would be his gain.
Invincible, a fairyland and Happy place to be,
he purchased then a fantasy to share his dream, be Free.
His Peter Pan* would yearn to fly and capture misplaced youth,
a time You Got to Be There to learn innocence and truth.
But, though his world would seem complete, it bore a woeful sign
that this was deeply Dangerous, his future On the Line.
Amid the rides and robots,* a magnet meant to lure,
suspicion that in Neverland his motives less than pure.*
Denying claims and marching on, this icon would endure,
with Bubbles* on his shoulder he would Beat It then on tour.
His showmanship was legend'ry, a Thriller to the core,
the crowds would be ecstatic, Off the Wall and Shout for more.
For this was an illusion of his troubled Cry inside,
an actor or magician with his inner self denied.
His marr'ages, a sideshow, while his star was fading fast,
this shipwrecked soul in stormy seas, left clinging to the mast.
He rocked the world, against the odds, in meteoric rise
and blessed us with his Moonwalk* that bewitched our star-struck eyes.
But artistry so carved from plight, his demons sought to stop
and, Gone Too Soon he lost his fight, this tragic King of Pop.
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