Lefty The Left Handed Poem

They built this world for the other hand, Every door, every tool, every scissors command. Ink smears across my palm like war paint, While spiral notebooks mock me with their constraint. But I am the mirror breaker, The rule shaker, The one who writes backwards And dreams in reverse. Ten percent revolution ninety percent poetic evolution I am the southpaw standing alone Against a kingdom of clockwise clocks And right-turn locks. My hand moves left while the world turns right, I am the shadow boxer in broad daylight. Every signature is an act of defiance, Every handshake, civil disobedience. They say I'm sinister— From the Latin for "left"— But I am the artist Of beautiful theft, Stealing moments of pure rebellion With every stroke of my rebellious pen. I am differently commanded. So here's to the lefties, the rebels born, Who face each day like breaking dawn, Carving our paths through a backward maze, We are the 10 percent uprising, The minority surprising, The ones who reach across our bodies To write our own stories.