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Innocence lost at the behest of vivid imaginations
Targeted in ways that are both subtle and direct
Questioned with the intent of proving guilt
Without representation
Without reprieve
Without reason
On a projected canvas
The lives of so many are written
Often without their consent or knowledge
More definitive than required with very little truly known
Assumptions are the nature of humanity
For both good and bad outcomes
Sometimes there is just gray
This is where this canvas is often situated
Yet, is not often allowed to exist within this space
As this space is reserved for others
Who might those others be?
That question is worth a million dollars
And cannot be answered within the crafting of this message
On a projected canvas
Fantasies are constructed
Insecurities are displaced
Doubts are affirmed
On this projected canvas
There is no refuge for this wayward soul
A soul that feels as if it has been projected as a Katrina refugee
As ill placed as that label was
Yet, for some, that title still holds true
Just not in the open
On a projected canvas
The image is a living contradiction
One that means so much to many yet
So little to others
The irony of this phenomenon is one that harbors on the ridiculous
If it were not experienced in the flesh
A flesh that is thought to be weak
A heart thought to be deformed or incapable of a committed melody
There is no conductor who can lead this misguided cast of characters
Let this story be told
Another project for those who love to project
Their own flaws
Their own doubts
Their own insecurities
This is not a misnomer nor a call to action
For the acts in question have already taken place
The canvas already has been painted
Yet, the subject was nowhere to be found during its invention
On a projected canvas
More is told about the crafter than what was allegedly crafted…