Does anyone have a band-aid?

I'm not sure what to call it,
This feeling when I know I'm at fault,
When everything is alright becomes,
what went wrong?

I end every day standing here,
The corner of regret and so indignant,
When will I learn that life is more than,
Hey how are you? 

The way I'm left wishing I could be someone else,
Be somewhere else,
Something else,
Where are you?

No amount of sorries, explanations, or condolences wipes away,
The gross feeling I have when,
I don't know what to do.
What's the word?
The regret, the complete chagrin it makes me feel...
I'm a skinned knee, or a hand burned in escape of a fire, the way you leave me feeling I'm just so...so... Raw.