Despite your pain, you always had a big, beautiful smile.
You bow your head in embarrassment and allow the never-ceasing crowd to ignite the fire of your soul. Michael, you're an enigma—a distant memory twinkling in the back of my mind. I wish I could tell you how much I love you—to let you know that you aren't alone—with a hand to hold and a shoulder to cry.
A man with a big heart and generosity to die for—you inspire the creativity boiling on every page and proclaim my ability to mold any thought into reality. I wish you saw the beauty in your sadness because I certainly have—for many years, I've seen beyond the media's contradictions and advocated for your innocence.
Like Icarus—you fell until you could no longer see the snakes crawling upon the heads of the supposed family.
Medusa wrapped you in her glamor and turned your vision into stone.
Michael, watch out!
Oh no!—they got to you, haven't they?!
Blinded by greed, they stole your identity—tying your ankles and wrists as you hung from a million strings. The puppet master forced you to dance—complying suddenly—leaving you out to perform in front of millions while behind closed doors, they scourged you thirty-nine times.
Did you not see the shadow's knife edging toward your career?
Michael, you trusted them—every last person—yet you get tragedy in return. A hero lives his tragic tale, hoping to prevail over the darkness surrounding the world—and Michael, you did everything your heart permitted 'til your smile faded and your existence jaded.
With the paintbrush in hand—they depicted your demise—and it took a while for you to realize the blood dangling from the sides of the portrait. A troubled muse—and a stranger Moscow, you wander the stage like a lost puppy searching for a home. I wish I could've saved you—perhaps, shielding your body from the terroristic threats and removing the arrows from your abdomen. The love in your eyes shifted to despair, and your head fell—accompanied by the oncoming tears rolling down your cheek.
How could they?!
You're gone now—and they still trash your name to find gain through fame. But there you are, as your immortal messages puncture our hearts greatly—your music caresses our souls, the storms growing peaceful by the minute.
The silence was too loud.
Thus, you didn't know how to escape the hauntingly beautiful melody.
And I wish I could've convinced you to stay—
Read my love letter to you and fathom the admiration crying in between the blue lines.
I dedicate this book to you regarding your everlasting legacy.
Michael, I know I can't resolve the past, but I can vote for the future.
You're 100% Innocent!
Forever and always.
