ASD or DSA

I am not a machine
Despite what you presume
I am hue-changing leaves
Adapting, releasing
Falling softly to earth
Gracefully exhaling

I practice my true self
Each time I start scribbling
What I write is for me
What I feel is for me
Comfort in solitude
Purpose in creating

Now gleefully shifting
Into novel figures
And constantly stretching
Moldable, flexible
I am a lump of clay
I am not a machine

Now read from the last line towards the top.