A simple question gets a simple answer, and the poem is about the gap between the two. Someone asks, "How are you?" and he replies, "Fine." It's the kind of exchange people have a hundred times without thinking. But the last line pulls the curtain back: his sleepless nights and helpless tears tell a different story.
The speaker, who seems to be watching him from the outside, doesn't need to explain much. The word "asserted" is a telling choice. People usually assert things they're trying to make true, so "Fine" sounds less like an honest answer and more like a wall he puts up. The title, "Helplessness," suggests he can't fix whatever is wrong, and perhaps can't even bring himself to say it aloud.
The mood is quiet and sad, with a small sting of frustration. Nothing dramatic happens, yet the poem shows how easily pain can hide behind an everyday word, and how often we might miss it when someone says they're okay.