A Poem I wrote the day Michael Jackson died

How do we remember you?
Will we ever call your death beautiful?
Would we ever remember your good times or the times you spent with us trying to show us you?
Or are we now to the point where we only remember you hanging your baby over the porch, are we going to remember every single court room hearing you attended, and are we ever going to remember every cartoon against you? Are we going to call your death beautiful? Do we understand that you were an icon? Do we understand that you actually made pop culture? Is it fair to you that we are just now understanding you? Is it fair to you that people are just now understanding why you were so soft spoken? Is it fair to you that people are just now understanding why you changed your color? Is it fair you that we are now taking back every joke that was made? Is this death becoming beautiful to you now? It is not fair to you that we are now crying over your death? It is not fair to you that we are gathering up every drug we can put on you against you? It is not fair to you that each tabloid is putting EVERYTHING they could against you. Im starting to think your death is beautiful now. I only have one question? Who can fill your shoes? Who is going to be your legacy? Who is going to try to step in your shoes? NO ONE. There is no one like you that could even compare to you. There is no Michael Jackson comparison you were a once in a lifetime person. You were a gift from god. And I think we are now calling your death a beautiful disaster.