Feels Like Being Dead

Features like wax that I can mold in my hands
Confidence beneath my fingertips
Time always melts it back to itself
And fear always takes its rightful place
Contempt and pointing fingers
If I show weakness
Pariah among the confident
I mold and remold or just walk away
Cause when I’m out and about
And dealing with you
Trying to live a normal life
I can’t let my true face out
My features like wax that I must mold every day
Or hide inside
And pace the day away
And hope you haven’t seen my melting pride
It’s a hell of a way to live
It feels like being dead