A poem for Clinical Fellows

Where did I leave it?

My confidence, my wit.

Confrontation seems to stifle my flame.

There’s a part of me that now feels lame.

How can I know what I know, yet need to justify my stance.

Nothing I can say will help me in this professional dance.

I’m new and I’m young, yet I have things to say.

How long is long enough to have a heyday?

Just when I gain ground,

I get stuck on the mound.

I know, ref –

I’m just a CF.