Photographs

Picture frames like door ways
There's always something
On the other side

These walls in this home
I don't, call my own
Because the entire time
I felt all alone

All my photographs
Within my dirty room
Are scattered on the floor
I could be stomping
On them soon

I may be great at
Capturing moments
But that's only because
It causes me, so many emotions

I'm sick of taking photos
Of happy couples
When I'm only used
For blanket ruffles

My heart may be broken
But I'll take this photo for you
Even though, I don't know
What else I can do

I don't like to be in
People's camera shots
Because I'm not
Considered that hot

So I duck behind others
Every time I see that lense come out
Even my mother
Makes me hide or shout

I don't want to be
In a photograph
Because it reminds me
Of the past

Just like every picture frame
And every door way,
Has something inside,
Something to say