Left-handed, a lefty, the other arm.
It is forgotten because it’s weaker.
The other, extra, the one with no charm.
If it were a woman, none would seek her.

The sinister and the clumsy left hand.
Derogated abnormality.
Like an afterthought that was never planned.
Its only benefit is symmetry.

At least I could have been ambidextrous.
Then I’d be capable on either side.
I want perfection, not a little less.
This left hand is a source of wounded pride.

When can the useless ever find their place?
This dangling vestige had made me bereft.
But then I found that someone to embrace,
And I saw the potential I had left.