That box of cookies, sitting on the counter,
so innocent yet so sweet inside, fought over
by grabbing hands, tearing at the package.
The person who had the box of cookies,
left it, abandoned on the counter, never
wanted it to begin with, so left for others
to deal with and to fight over. Each little
cookie, different than its neighbor,
a different facet of personality.
Everyone loves cookies, tries to eat and snatch
but only one can actually eat the cookie,
only one can possess its delicious taste.
The poor box of cookies, so much attention
and yet so lonely, unsure, sitting
until something good comes along.
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