I am in everything, and I am gone.

I'm already dead.
I'm already gone.
Your hate has always fed,
My anger til' dawn.

I always win.
The tide is high now.
Every thought a sin.
But I'm not ready to die just now.

I am the frost that stings your cheeks,
The rays that burn your skin.
I've been plotting at this for weeks,
Now allow me to introduce you to the hate that I've stored within.

To every soul that's caused me harm,
Intentionally, or accidently,
Have you seen the things I can do with this arm?
My pen is my blade and I weild it thoughtlessly.

I'm already dead.
I'm already gone.
Your hate has always fed,
My anger til' dawn.

I never win.
The moon is full now.
My whole life is a sin.
I'm content to die now.

I am the Autumn leaves, dried and broken.
I am the overpowering Spring weeds.
I'm being choked by the total epicness of my words unspoken,
I pollute by spreading my seeds like a contagious, life-ending disease.

My mind is anarchy.
I have no brightening sun,
Everything is against me.
Am I the only one?

I'm already dead.
I'm already gone.
Your hate has always fed,
My anger til' dawn.

I'm fighting a losing battle,
One I can neither lose nor win.
Within myself, and between everyone else.
My only options are to fight or give in.

I am the frostbite that nips at your toes,
The lovely flower's aroma that fills your nose.
I am the Autumn breeze that crawls up your spine,
And the sun's reliable morning shine.

Also I am the wasp that stings you again and again,
I am the snowstorm that never ends,
I am the dehydration that blurs your vision and smears your mind,
And the beauty in the leave's decent as they leave their skeletal branches behind.

I'm already dead.
I'm already gone.
Your hate has always fed,
My anger til' dawn.