Ask Of Me

Everyone asks something of me.
Wanting.
Taking.
I used to fight for what I believed belonged to me.
Arguing.
Fighting back.
They would always get what they wanted though.
I became numb to the feeling of being taken apart.
Didn't feel.
Didn't care.
Pretty soon there will be nothing left to pick at.
I've given all that I could.
But I'm pretty sure that even when I withered down.
To just an empty shell that they'll have to use that for something too.
Always taking.
Always asking of me.