Random Poetry. I Don't Know If It's Good or Not. Opinions Needed.

Bathroom

He took his knife from on his belt and thought,
"My life is really not too good at all."
He thought of all the things that he was taught
His life was pointless, all he had would fall.
And in the bed, he kissed his wife goodbye
With knife in hand, he ventured to the lou
While sitting on the floor, he let a sigh
And cut his wrist, his breaths became but few.
But now he thought, "I do not want to die!"
His cries for help were silenced by the door
He thrashed around and then began to cry
Too late, his heart, it was to beat no more.
His body lie in pools of his own life.
At last, for now, he ended his own strife.

Jigsaw

A beautiful image,
Everything fitting so nicely.
A small hole in the middle,
Where a piece is meant to fit.
Searching.
Looking for this small, significant piece
And found in the most unexpected of places.
Just before it slides into place,
The table moves (something of my own fault)
And the jigsaw,
Nearly completed,
Clatters to the floor.
Now, to begin all over.
Searching.

I Love This Man

Watching him rest,
I stand over the bed.
His peaceful expression,
His soft, cold lips.
Never have I felt such love.
Nor will I ever.
With a brief smile,
I pull the sheets up
Over my mistake I do not regret.
The white sheets turn red,
His body turns pale.

Fulfilled

The night so lonely calls to me
And brings me gently out to sea
It says to me, "You come with haste,"
And water, now, is all I taste.

Woman, So Beautiful.

Her beauty filled my every thought
To make her mine, I would think not
I told her "come," her love I sought
I watched her pick the roses.

I asked her daily, "come to me,"
I stood and watched, so I could see
Her beauty grew, it made me weak
But still she picked the roses.

At last, I tried to call her name
Her stunning beauty was to blame
My mouth was open, no words came
She sat and picked the roses.

Then I leaned down to kiss her head
She turned to look, and to my dread
She stabbed my throat, and I was dead
She stayed and picked the roses.

Innocence

"Daddy, what happened?" the little girl cried
As daddy looked into her deep, green eyes
He said, "mommy's dead," and tried not to smile
Trickling blood had dripped on the tiles
In his hand held the knife that committed this deed
This horrible sight, this act of greed
"Go away!" daddy shouted, and shoved her away
He scrubbed at his hands, but the stains still stayed
He heard the girl sob, and ignored all the noise
As he pulled on her body, he shoved away toys
With axe in his hand, he finished the job
And inside the house, the little girl sobbed