I had old friends but now as we get older
They only come around as of late
begging me to commiserate
lending them my ears but I'm left deaf
Lining up for hand outs with hands out
no thanks but their serrated lives flaying
the center pieces of my hands
The lazy stitches ache
as my shoulders bear this burden of thieves
I'm left alone until they need a loan
Tapped out and thus tapping out
realizing there is no way this could work
if all I've got is them crawling out of the woodwork
backstabbing me with a heartbreaking point
until I don't feel
except feeling used

Charles Darkly

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/scrap-meddlers/