rising out of the tube into combat,
sun blazing down on the twenty-four
of us, half dead by the end of this for sure,
swords and knives in the middle to stare at.
one boy steps off his platform premature,
his blood was the first to spill.
i spot katniss, fear-stricken eyes of the kill,
and the countdown, on full blast to endure.
as the clock hits zero, all run headfirst,
the grass now stained with our blood
as the cornucopia begins to flood
with children killing one other, the worst.
i run straight into the wilderness, alone,
i'm surely going to die out here on my own.
