Given and Taken

 Given and Taken

For so long it's been the same. Always seeming to take. And even when I hold it out willingly they often snatch from my grasp. As if those clawing hands can't get enough, just another dose and another hit of the useless drug I provide. Maybe just a wasted mess and worthless offering; they drop it and stamp it into the ground when done. So pull it from me and kick me back in the face. Pin my arms to my sides in a controlling embrace.
And the ones that don't would rather not see my tattered remains. All claimed and held in bloody hands. But these fingers are curled, and these fists fight back, fighting with all they can