Elderly Bullies Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Wondering if I matter at all in this sorry world.
Does it matter if I'm alive or dead?
Does anyone realize that I am only a shell sitting here in front of them?
That there's nothing left of me inside of what you visually see?
Totally drained, no longer caring, wishing only for death.
There is no one who can see beneath my eyelids, no way to tell that I have already departed from this horrid world and the so-called friends of haughty reasoning.
Becoming bullies in their old age, thinking they are above spiritual reckoning.