Dracula is Dead đź’€ (my turning point in poem)

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One night Mr. Leary gave to me his psyche treat


til my mind was swarming beneath my feet


discognizance ruled through coggy wheels


pain bolted with every turn of the head


An image on the mantle


a crucifixion going on before my eyes.


Dracula couldn't look not even for a sec


the cogs sharpened multiplied increasing the pain


lightning bolts rammed my skull.




WHY?


Why couldn't I?


Look? Look. Look!


Why not, why, why not?


A look...a real look,


don't turn your head..focus.


LIFE emanating from the hanging man


see that wasn't that bad.


Thrown to the past...an 8yr. old hospital hobo


Further still, the heaves the upheaval the pushing


all is white, hospital white, the pushing intensifies


until I see and hear...a baby....born anew


A new peace,


Dracula is dead.
 
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