i need two papers of an argumentative essay

1st paper to be a rough draft

2nd paper the final essay

from the poem “Daddy Sylvia Plath”

Daddy

Sylvia Plath, 1932 – 1963

You do not do, you do not do_x000D_
Any more, black shoe_x000D_
In which I have lived like a foot_x000D_
For thirty years, poor and white,_x000D_
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo._x000D_
_x000D_
Daddy, I have had to kill you._x000D_
You died before I had time—_x000D_
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,_x000D_
Ghastly statue with one gray toe_x000D_
Big as a Frisco seal_x000D_
_x000D_
And a head in the freakish Atlantic_x000D_
Where it pours bean green over blue_x000D_
In the waters off beautiful Nauset._x000D_
I used to pray to recover you._x000D_
Ach, du._x000D_
_x000D_
In the German tongue, in the Polish town_x000D_
Scraped flat by the roller_x000D_
Of wars, wars, wars._x000D_
But the name of the town is common._x000D_
My Polack friend_x000D_
_x000D_
Says there are a dozen or two._x000D_
So I never could tell where you_x000D_
Put your foot, your root,_x000D_
I never could talk to you._x000D_
The tongue stuck in my jaw._x000D_
_x000D_
It stuck in a barb wire snare._x000D_
Ich, ich, ich, ich,_x000D_
I could hardly speak._x000D_
I thought every German was you._x000D_
And the language obscene_x000D_
_x000D_
An engine, an engine_x000D_
Chuffing me off like a Jew._x000D_
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen._x000D_
I began to talk like a Jew._x000D_
I think I may well be a Jew._x000D_
_x000D_
The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna_x000D_
Are not very pure or true._x000D_
With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck_x000D_
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack_x000D_
I may be a bit of a Jew._x000D_
_x000D_
I have always been scared of you,_x000D_
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo._x000D_
And your neat mustache_x000D_
And your Aryan eye, bright blue._x000D_
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You—_x000D_
_x000D_
Not God but a swastika_x000D_
So black no sky could squeak through._x000D_
Every woman adores a Fascist,_x000D_
The boot in the face, the brute_x000D_
Brute heart of a brute like you._x000D_
_x000D_
You stand at the blackboard, daddy,_x000D_
In the picture I have of you,_x000D_
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot_x000D_
But no less a devil for that, no not _x000D_
Any less the black man who_x000D_
_x000D_
Bit my pretty red heart in two._x000D_
I was ten when they buried you._x000D_
At twenty I tried to die_x000D_
And get back, back, back to you._x000D_
I thought even the bones would do._x000D_
_x000D_
But they pulled me out of the sack,_x000D_
And they stuck me together with glue._x000D_
And then I knew what to do._x000D_
I made a model of you,_x000D_
A man in black with a Meinkampf look_x000D_
_x000D_
And a love of the rack and the screw._x000D_
And I said I do, I do._x000D_
So daddy, I’m finally through._x000D_
The black telephone’s off at the root,_x000D_
The voices just can’t worm through._x000D_
_x000D_
If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two—_x000D_
The vampire who said he was you_x000D_
And drank my blood for a year,_x000D_
Seven years, if you want to know._x000D_
Daddy, you can lie back now._x000D_
_x000D_
There’s a stake in your fat black heart_x000D_
And the villagers never liked you._x000D_
They are dancing and stamping on you._x000D_
They always knew it was you._x000D_
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.

12 October 1962

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