Second childhood
life is taking its final turn,
Just makes me feel returning to an urn
I was born from her womb
now it's my turn to return to the tomb
this,thinking he started feeling lonely
even the people around let him spendtime alone
As his dementia is choking all of them and him
He feels lonely longing for a companion
Fearing he may miss himself ,
forgetting who his real self is.
the fear ,the confusion,the dreams and all
mixed are his dealings fair and tall
alone in his shell,he is blabbering
some that people around understand
some only his brain would understand
lying in the bed in room 301
A condition he can't perceive if good or bad