Why do I surround myself by material people?

Why do I try to fit myself in,

when I am from an entirely different puzzle.

Why am I blamed for my trapped thoughts,

while they look over me with pointed eyes

And chew on my despair.

I consume my own mind

You consume my utter defeat.

Left of me is little

For I have been devoured by the outside. 

I was accustomed to giving

And even then still being taken.

Because where I only have so much, 

the hungered know no limit.

And I allow myself,

to be a portion of their consumption.

And I blame myself,

for handing them the tools needed to consume me.