When I am left alone

I feel as though i'm fake.

A clay sculpture that can't live

a mistake no one can fix.

What it has done to love,

a wound never being healed,

only getting worse,

with remaining pain,

and seems to never fade.

But I am not a wound,

I was made for good things,

I heal the broken,

I refuse to be 'just human'

I am a living soul

So treat me like one.