A flash so loud,

That I cannot see myself. 

I am witnessed in a photo.

Vaguely understanding who the girl is...

That I glimpse on glossy paper.

Lights cannot hide laughter lines,

And blemishes of growing up.

A glare is always there,

Glimmering brightly over my eyes.

But I will forever be exposed when the camera sees me.

The curve of a cheek with a dotted faint freckle,

And the braces in my mouth, locks of red falling on my face.

And the glare of my glasses are still there, denying the expression under my lashes.

Without the enhancement of lights and accessories, to click when I do not realize...

That is who I am.

Without idealistic beauty, but with the beauty that makes me.