24/05/2026
The lens clicks open, a countdown starts,
A sudden pressure on our parts
To mimic joy, to freeze a grace,
And pin a flash across the face.
But muscles tense when they are told
To mimic warmth they cannot hold
On sudden cue, in sterile light,
To make a fleeting moment bright.
A real smile is a drifting spark,
A sudden lantern in the dark,
Born of a laugh, a look, a word,
Not by a camera’s command incurred.
So when you freeze before the view,
It’s not a flaw inside of you;
The camera asks for a static thing,
When joy was meant to move and wing.
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