Enticing, but Ultimately Dissatisfying

How should I put this right?
By giving everyone a pound of flesh?
Everyone wants a bite
Of whatever is left.

I could break free
By tearing asunder
The design of me,
But it becomes empty plunder.

No one has ever loved me;
No one has put my good first.
And their apathy has shoved me
Into the hands of the absolute worst.

I know I carry all the blame as well,
But this hell

Was never my intention.

I woke up here alone.