Poetry of sorts

Cookies

Distraught,
a mess.
We look upon,
this story.
In absolute hate
and dismay.

I am confused,
with this day.
I must live,
even through these horrible actions.

I made cookies,
and sat in silence.
I sat alone,
in the quiet up-roaring violence.

I bite into my caramel,
chocolate creation.
Sitting in a chair,
listening to that one station.
I sit like this,
for a very long duration.

I bite into a hard cookie,
with sadness and guilt.
I'm a rookie,
at what I've built.