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Anna Mink Feb 2021
The Daughter makes toothpicks from treebones while she waits. She uses them to pick hunger out from her mouth. Her week’s first real dinner will happen soon. From wildebeest migration to their awaiting dinner table, still undercooked meat sits in that aged iron skillet they tell nobody they own.

She waits. She’s accustomed to waiting, like her mother, the Hunter. Sometimes a day's worth of strength and calories came from a meal of dandelions and winter water while the Hunter is out waiting for her traps to ****** a life. So they wait.

Through the door comes Man. He's watercolorist emptied of mental flowers to create. His hands are bandaged and hold a toasted loaf of pumperknickle bread. The Hunter and Man kiss and wait and think in the quiet sizzle of meat.

Romanticism of rebellion they could do without, the couple. Survivorship comes in vulnerability of sweat-soaked underclothes from sleepterrors. But instead of wallowing in tears they make art of blackbirds and mockingbirds while waiting to **** them for survival.

~ A.M, F.H.
Edited & Published 21st of February 2021.
Written 21st of January 2021.
Supercat917 Mar 2015
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where I place flowers by her grave
That I wish she could see

I remember her laugh
Her smile
And her scream
Have dreams of her death
That place the blame on me

Under the Willow now
Weeping with the tree
I'll stay here
By my sister's feet

The funeral is done
The rain is pouring down
Everyone is gone
No one remains but me

I read the inscription on her grave
The one chosen be me:
Your life is what you gave
To help set Panem free

I wish I was dead
It should have been me
He should have ran
She should have tried to flee

It cannot be changed
Not even by me
So I take a breath
And bury her ashes
Underneath the tree
the greatest weapons of the world.
Full of Mocking jays.
Each one being Divergent
to the others.
Books are like a Maze
that we have to Run through.
They're like a Testing
that will never end.
Not even the great Hogwarts
can stand against their power.
Books are more beautiful than the Twilight sky.
More powerful than Percy Jackson,
than the Heroes of Olympus.
Books are the true heroes of the world.
As you can tell, I love books. :D
Danica Sep 2014
The screams of men, women and children flooded the blood filled streets of District 13.Whips, chains, axes, i could hear everything.The sound of a man's head been chopped off, a baby screaming for it's mother suddenly cut short.This is what the Capitol does to us, for rebelling.I stand here, my seventeen year self watching as everyone I know is brutally murdered.My mother, my eldest sister, my youngest sister and my baby brother.I couldn't cry, all my tears had been wasted for tears.My face stained with blood and tears.I hear the peacekeeper coming towards me.I can tell them by the sound of their heavy white boots crushing the rocks beneath them.My breathing quickens, what if they **** me? I'll be brutally murdered, never to see the light of day.I gulp as I hear their footsteps stop.I try not to make any sound.Not to move.I wish i could just run away from them.But that makes them to **** me more, by shooting me with their guns.
District 13 was once among the strongest district of Panem.It's rich with weapons and graphite mining.This district also does with nuclear testing and scientific research.Until the citizen of District 13 fights against the Capitol, and shows courage that they too will have their own freedom.

— The End —