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#hungergames
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!"
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Jan 13, 2025
Jan 13, 2025 at 11:14 PM UTC
May the odds be EVER in your favor
Plaits in theory seem to hold the threads of your hair together so tightly. But they’re loose, tangled, fragile creations that with one sudden misplaced head turn consequently fall apart. Plaits are relatable. What a disgusting metaphor she thought as she continued to plait her hair now in tears.
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Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 7:44 PM UTC
Primm
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.)
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Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
"real or not real?"
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.)
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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
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Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 4:04 PM UTC
Primrose Everdeen's funeral
I reread the same books over and over And I don't care how many reasons you have to hate the series These books are like people Sure, they have flaws But I love them for everything they are I see their beauty, not their mistakes I will always love them Because they were my escape When everything was crumbling They were my friends When people weren't And rereading them Reminds me Of how beautiful it was To escape I don't care if you hate them Just like people, if you don't like them, leave them alone No on is forcing you to associate yourself with them You don't need to go around spreading news about their flaws Because you have many of your own My emotions Are connected to those books Because they saved my life So leave them alone
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Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 11:59 AM UTC
These books are my friends
I fell in love like the way you fall asleep: like getting hit by a ******* bus that knocks you out of your senses and In that moment I swear we were infinitely in love but ********* you left me on my own. I know love and lust don't always keep the same company but I find great companionship in your eyes and I'm quite hoping you'll stick around. May the odds be ever in our favor of falling in love again in the empty house we once called mine where i'm divergent and I can only be controlled by my fears (of losing you) that send me recoiling in your arms every night; I solemnly swear that I am up to no good and I spend every second wishing you'd love me like I love you.
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Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
Teen fiction gone amiss: an autobiography