The Lefty's Ledger

The carbon paper is a messy, blue thief,

stealing my time and my meager relief.

I press down the pen till the plastic starts to groan,

signing away the utility of my bone.

I lift up my hand and the side is a stain,

a metallic slick born of effort and pain.

A silver-gray smudge where the graphite has bled,

marking the paper and the life I’ve led.