I ran dripping wet,
From the juice from the counter spilled over me,
Dad calls me,
A loser.
A curse.
He dries me up with his bare palms,
A smack, I hear, from every word,
DIE!
DIE, YOU IMBECILE PIECE OF TRASH, JUST DIE!
I'm bruising and hurting,
Sometimes even bleeding.
I brought a friend over,
To my lawn, to play pretend.
Dad calls me,
A failure.
A disorder.
He dries me up with his leather belt,
A smack, I hear, from every word,
DIE!
DIE, YOU IMBECILE PIECE OF TRASH, JUST DIE!
I go back outside,
And tell my friend to leave,
Covering up my blackened wrists.
I bring a spelling test back home,
It's just a letter grade below what I usually get.
Dad calls me,
An illiterate.
A bad influence.
He dries me up with a burnt spatula,
A smack, I hear, from every word,
DIE!
DIE, YOU IMBECILE PIECE OF TRASH, JUST DIE!
I stuff the paper in my bag,
And go back to school to lie about the same bruises from the night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem