The Hand That Feeds

Would you help a hand in need,
If the hand were the reason you bleed?
When the source of your pain, is the same place
That this cocoon of hated was conceived.
It would be starting something that's soon to leave
Pointless in logic, but offered so cleanly.
It's trickery in purest form, leaves me needing.
That feeling of numbness, fiending.
Feeding off something that's make believe.
I see the truth so often, its lost meaning.
Blind to the losses, temporary it seems.
Open my eyes, so I can breathe.
Uncover the lies and all the deceit.
The hand my eye came across,
Was just in the reflection of me...