Everybody wants a slice,
And soon there's nothing left.
No little piece of me, for me,
No life for me to live.

Just a few more laps to run,
Racing round the Sun;
A few more pointless laps of toil,
Until my life is done.

No one just wants me for me;
No one really cares;
They live to meet their selfish needs,
And feed their own desires.

Andrew Thompson

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sliced-2/