Hunger games of hate and grief
and pride and pain and scorn
We've been in the arena
since the day that we were born

Our horror shows aren't annual
they don't end or begin
They're miserable, continual,
and no one ever wins

Eat the berries, eat the berries!
what's the point of going on?
It's all a show, the Devil's drama
and we're his foolish pawns

Dressing up to meet our end
putting on an act
Our stylists have done us up
and we refuse to face the facts

The Capital is always watching
and Snow ends up on top
We are all so glued to screens
that we don't see the towers drop

Arrows flying through the air
made up of jealousy and lies
Our Rebellion is failing
and we're all dropping like flies

All of the songbirds are snakes in disguise
singing corrupted songs
The Jabberjays are everywhere
and they've been listening all along

We celebrate the mindless slaughter
a cycle that never ends
And we're all making enemies
for we've forgotten how to make friends

How do we think this is fine?
I'm afraid we've all gone mad
Life's a twisted lottery
that doesn't discern good from bad

We have all been drawn for reaping
despite our desperate labor
So there's just one thing left to say:
"May the odds be EVER in your favor!"

real; the unscabbed scars on my knuckles and arms remind
me of rough trees and the grimy surface of soil stomped
on, you compare them to wildflowers but i know that this is
only because you are the type of person to enter a restaurant
with a sign that reads caution and order something anyway,
simply because you are too nice and hate to think of businesses
shutting down and of people failing, maybe this is why
you love me, i still have not figured it out yet

real; walking into school makes me feel like a deflated balloon
and everyone that says hello to me is blowing me up
again with methane i am slowly becoming too big to be tied
down with a ribbon called responsibility and fear,
the anxiety that enters my mind when i am forced to stand in
front of strangers with judgemental eyes and fake smiles
becomes mind numbingly painful and it makes me question
whether or not i am still alive. i still have not figured out
why i am yet.

real; your smile lights up the lights on the lamposts by the
train station where we met it transforms phantoms into people
paper planes into reality and nightmares into dreams
your touch leaves nothing but good intentions and blissful hope
and it leaves my cold unbeating heart yearning for warmth. i
still have not figured out if i like it or not.

not real; you love me. you kiss my wrist because you care
about me not what i went through. you love talking to me, you
wonder about how stars could ever die because you
think i am a walking sun. you keep your promises and tell me that
you care every night. i'm a good person. i have aspirations.
those pills on my bedside are not mine. the mirror is shaking.
i never meant to hurt myself. i'm sorry for all the things i've done.
i have potential to be better. i am beautiful.
not real not real not ******* real

(h.l.)