Little Lefty Luther
grew up a lonesome loser.
At school he was a freak
always turned the other cheek.
His father Lex would wail,
while mother Lou would pale.
The teacher roll his eyes
and mutter to the skies,
once or twice – he’d blown his lid,
“Why am I landed with this kid?”
In the playground kids were cruel
for it was under bullies rule;
until a frosty fourth of July
as Lefty sat and wondered why,
from the moment of his birth
he had felt of little worth.
Born left in the town of Right
his life had been one long fight.
‘Til one day glaring at his hands,
he barely heard the noisy band,
the leader, a boy named Tim
they headed straight for him
Tim announced to all nearby,
“This child is different from you and I.”
Lefty stood up straight and tall,
the band fell quiet one and all.
They listened as Tim began to speak,
“It’s time you stopped being the freak.
You’re different, that you know.
As different as fire and snow,
Batman was different, he did good.
Enjoy being different, if you would.”