Fruitless, inept, I can’t reach
My tongue has been faltering speech
If I could just find the right word
But no, I will not be heard
I could smile like warming the sun
And still find the warmth being shunned
A battle I know I won’t win
So sit I with hand resting chin
Still planning to fight out for right
To make clear of gray clouded sight
Fruitless and futile may be
But still of great import to me
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Willow's Glen 
Your poem displays a range of emotions centered around self-doubt. Expressed so poetically with a great ending “Fruitless and futile may be / But still of great import to me” If you truly believe in it, then never stop fighting when it comes to being heard. Great stuff.
I won’t. I fight tooth and nail for the things/people that I care about. it may not make a difference in the end, but if I don’t try… What kind of person doesn’t fight for what they love?
ha – i know days like this…but you will win this battle…sometimes with pen in hand fighting for words, ink hurting like fresh wounds but here….comes the sun… beautiful poem keats
I don’t think I will win it, Claudia. At risk of peeling the layers away myself, I wrote this for a person I care for very much and I’m doing battle with their own view of themselves. Sometimes loving is hard, especially when you want to shake the person silly and shout at them “why can’t you see yourself like I do?”. *sighs* But still, it’s something that needs to be done… Even if I don’t “win”.
and of great import to those that wait for you as you ponder…
Oh… No one’s waiting for little old me. I’m just a nosy little pixie-type girl who runs off at the mouth and pen at random intervals. Nothing overly special here. Just words.
It’s super. I read a poet looking for words in it…and then perhaps something else, the image is clear and the sun shunning my warmth, slightly funny. Self affirming for me…though not of great import to anyone else.
*grins* well thank you very much. I prefer to add a dash of hope to most of my stuff… I’m a relentless optimist.