Silence (Rough Draft)

They say that the deepest emotions come during silience,
And they say that silence is the only true purity,
As if it's some sort of, divine snow,
A gift from God, meant for us, and to help with the gift,
He did, unto us, bestow.

But I disagree,
I say silence is the absense of life.
The absense of love.

Silence is not a white snow,
It's not pure.
It is vile,
It's a trial,
To see how much we can take,
How much before we crack,
How much pain on the soul can be stacked.

Silence is merley just a shade of grey,
Coming whatever may,
Everything will return to the dark; no time to pray.

But then there's the other kind of silence,
The one that really is pure.
The one that really is kind,
And sweet,
And gentle,
And light.
The kind that makes something wrong seem right,
The kind that makes a cliche seem original.
And makes irony out of everything.

It's when you are in this silence that real emotion comes,
Real emotion that's emotionless,
The absense of pain.
The absense of happieness.
That emotion is the one true bliss,
Because with no saddness, there can be no happieness.
Happieness, that subjective hell,
Can only be experienced by those with pain.
With something to gain.

But without those emotions, the world is right,
And without those emotions, my soul can attain flight,
Into the heavens above and to the angels in the sky,
Who will await me as I peacfully die.

Pure silence,
Real life.