Friday, February 24, 2012

My Poem...

So a couple of night back I decided to right a poem....
and so here it is....

I'd love to hear what you think....

He Smiled

written by Briggitte Suastegui
February 19th, 2012

The little boy looked out of the window,
across the street to a park.
A playground,
a set of swings,
a basketball court,
he smiled.

There was a little girl with her school friends,
across the street in the park.
On the playground,
on the set of swings,
on the basketball court,
he smiled.

He watched them play,
he looked up at the sun.
What a day to be outside,
to feel the sweat rolling down your face from running too much.
But what did he know of that?
He smiled.

He touched his finger to the glass,
as the kids ran around playing tag.
He watched the basketball bounce up and down, 
he tapped the glass each time it touched the ground.
He smiled. 

Someone tapped his shoulder.
Startled, he jumped.
He wouldn't admit it,
but he jumped.
He turned around, 
he smiled.

'C'mon, you have to go back to work now',
he shook his head.
'Oh come now, I don't want to get you into trouble',
his feet were firmly planted on the ground.
'Your father will get angry...',
he felt a coldness flood throught his body,
he dropped his eyes and followed her back into the studio, but,
he smiled.

He knew it was coming,
the hardest part of the song. 
He looked at his father,
the belt menacingly resting in his hands,
the cold eyes looking straight at him.
He sang,
he hit the note,
he had escaped this time,
he was safe for now,
he smiled.

He got in the car,
and looked out of the window.
The little girl caught his eye and waved,
he waved back shyly,
unsure of what to do.
She looked at him curiously and smiled,
the car began to drive away,
he felt the tears pool in his eyes,
and to himself,
he smiled.

The bump the car went over woke him up. 
He ran his fingers through his hair and pushed it back,
he looked out of the window.

There was a park,
a playground,
a set of swings,
a basketball court.

There was a group of school kids playing,
on the playground,
on the set of swings,
on the basketball court.

He subconsciously tapped his finger,
as the basketball bounced up and down.
The ball rolled away,
the little girl ran to get it,
she caught his eye and recognized him.

She smiled and waved,
he waved back. 
She ran back excitedly to tell her friends,
he smiled.

The car pulled up to a studio,
he had work to do.
There were millions of fans outside,
he had work to do.
He took a breath and stepped outside.
He smiled.

A smile can mean a great many things.
It can express joy,
it can hide sorrow.

For one person,
one with a lost childhood,
one who had to grow up too fast,
one who worked instead of played,
one who was in constant fear,
a smile meant many things.

When he wanted to cry,
to hide the tears,
he smiled.

When he longed to play,
but had to work instead,
he smiled.

When he seemed to have pleased his father,
and escaped the belt,
he smiled.

When he didn't know what to do,
feeling confusion, hurt, or anguish,
he smiled.

He smiled. 
It was the one thing,
the only thing,
he was sure he could do.

May you rest in peace,
my angel.
Michael Joseph Jackson.
August 29th, 1958 - June 25th, 2009. 

For me, Michael is like the Marilyn to a lot of people... I've seen people say this about Marilyn, and I feel like it fits my feelings so well for Michael...
I just wish I could go back in time and just hug him. Hug him and tell him that everything will be fine. Show him that people do love him, and that no matter what else happens, I will always love him.

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