Separating from the Ordinary

He's considered a misfit.
That's an outcast for you dip-shits.
He keeps it real, while others don't even keep it realistic.
He chooses not to get high.
The boy's afraid of heights.
But he can't help being fly, so he'll close his eyes once his dreams take flight.
Nobody's stopping he; His mind's possessive - with every thought comes an apostrophe.
He writes asylum bars.
Mentally he's so progressive.
Lock him up and throw away the key.
"To the moon and back," a man once suggested.
Sparking boundless ideas precociously.
Through hard work, the boy captured the art of civilized linguistics.
That's the refined scientific understanding of language, for those with minds that are premature.
As the narrator I have to be sure each line stays on path:
The boy would be mad if I didn't virtualize consistence.
But I musn't stray from my topic sentence.
Goals became set and a dream was fermented.
The boys world made so much sense before it ended.
Before you ask me how, let me clarify -
It is possible to die but still remain alive.
Sometimes the outer surface doesn't match what's inside.
This is why he lies,
And boast's "I do not cry."
I hope the smoke is starting to clear.
He doesn't want you to view the world from his eyes.
His pains sincere, but from your vision it veers.
He let a smile that he once so frequently adhered, lose it's vividness, and now it slowly dissapears.
Let it be no surprise; his face became just another among the crowd, but he'll survive.
He has a passion for being different.
And expresses this passion by making verbs collide with words that rhyme.
With a notebook in hand, and headphones that block out all sound,
A boy has never made ink-blotted words appear so loud.