Too Human

In a perfected body, did a witty mind stay,
With a sharp, keen sense, did this witty mind lay.
As this life, was coming so close to its mid,
Did this stable life do as it always did.
The great wits of this mind, could do so much;
As they solved any mental problem with a firm clutch.
Through any source of literature, would this great mind read;
This was the origin at where the various wits would breed.
Though, throughout a lifetime, did this mind receive a verbal beating.
But, with the wits of itself, did this mind laugh at the voices repeating.
Through off of this, did this simple mind build up so high,
So high, so high, it almost began to fly.
And when this life was coming to an cease, did it break with a still,
As it left behind it not a puddle of agony, but only a quiet chill.
So perhaps, this mind should not be labeled as an outcast, but perhaps, too human.