Wild and Uncouth

In a self-made seige in my room
I uncluttered my mind with a broom.
It's handle was gold.
It could speak and it told
Me: "A good clean sometimes relieves gloom."

So I fumble around on my desk.
Grab a pen and make a sound guess
About how it was made
Whilst casting some shade
On naysayers who say it's useless.

Now my many limbs are ablaze.
Can I say I should be so amazed?
Because I wrote out a truth
It was wild and uncouth
And I fall on my bed; charred and dazed.