There are days.
There are days,myself, you can’t recognize.
It’s been like this since late March.
I don’t dare to speak it into the air, fearful it’ll come back, stinging the hearing air like a boomerang.
I’m left on the right and wrong side of life lately, aiming to make these scribbles legible.
I’m doing all I could and it can’t possibly change a thing.
I’m left with my right hand, laughing at myself while I’m crying, whining at my punishment.
My hand, my tool, left.
I’m left with this right wrong hand.
I’m lucky to be ambidextrous.
Still, I can’t let go.
This pen quivering in my wavering grip.
I’m left with this constant hiccup, smarting.
I’m stuck.
I’m left with only my right and wrong hand.
Dawning Creations 
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