Tracy Morgan

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The Best Poem Of Tracy Morgan

Dad Calls Me

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.

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