Death-Love-Chaos

I curse the world and look to the sky.
There are so many things that won't let me die. 
If I could die, not many would cry; if they 
did, I would wonder why. Do you live or do you die? 
Does the reaper ever lie? Demons are here; 
angels are there; why do we even care? 
To love is good, how could someone sabotage 
the glory? When others hear what I say, they 
sit in disbelief. I live; I love; I try to die, but 
the world still knows my face. With the shine 
of gold and the beauty of a diamond, my love 
will go to one. When the world is bleak and 
you start to seek for a sense of peace, then 
you'll see a part of me, if dead, alive, or 
otherwise. That is what I see through my 
dim eyes. Chaos is a crazy thing, but life is 
much worse; the things I've seen, the stuff I've 
done, will show what I am. The things you hear from 
me will tell my story. In death, at least,