A Hand Axe

I know not a hand axe,
Cathartic is my poetry and rhyme.
I pen in the darkness,
when my sun sets in the east.
I smile and write when my moon is fecund-
Dancing in the mad I do,
Amid a downpour that washes my dark heart;
Lough not when you see my smile,
Purging I do when I shower in the rain.
All because I know not a hand axe.