I fear that inside
I’m made of silver halide
I can’t risk exposure,
so my pupils go wide

as they thirst for light
in this room sealed tight
while lusting and longing,
for my dark to turn white

and print on my brain
black and white frames
of a moment in time,
that will always remain.

But a moment of light
means I must let some in…

I'm sure my development
can never begin.