Benighted

He said he is just seven years old
Don't understand what he is doing here
None of us can enter the secret spheres
Mechanisms which brought him to dementia
All that he can see looks so strange
His hands are different, old and wrinkled
They are covered by tortuous veins
Entire body's decrepit
Seized with a great distress
At dawn of his birthday
The day of his eight years
The night when he's gone
Fallen asleep in a breath
And never, has never awaken