My Picture. Not Yours. Mine.

You missed it,

everything looks wrong,

that there doesn't fit,

the moments gone.

The angles off,

the flash is too bright,

they just scoff,

because I can't do anything right.

The click of the camera fills me with anticipation,

I grin as my heart races,

I love the feeling of creation,

but I can't do it among all the judgmental faces.

The perfect image is fleeting,

so let me catch it,

your yelling is distracting,

and you're the one who made my hand slip.

This is my own bubble,

this is my own world,

and this is my photo, 

my camera,

my lens,

my lights, 

and my dream.

So leave,

and never come back,

please don't grieve,

after all, don't you still have other dreams to crack?