To Jenesis Hammaz, surviving the 69th Annual Hunger Games was just the beginning to her horror. Coming home to her sister prior to the games was the only good thing to come out of the nightmare that she lived through in the arena.
Jenesis...
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"𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝." —Martin Luther King
We're born from a country of war Raised to embrace the silent oppression We're told the death of our children is redemption That the death of our sons and daughters are a loss We hush the mournful cries of our children when they get too loud Closing the shutters to conceal them from reality We kiss them goodbye instead of goodnight We hold their hands as we walk them to potential death, and forcefully, we're ripped apart because you said so We watch our sons and daughters fight and die for your entertainment You were there as they all died and one won We were there when they left, and we are here if they return Where are you now that they scream into the darkness of the night? We now mourn our babies that we've birthed to fight an unfortunate war We are the unheard, we are vengeful, and unfortunately for you, we are angry
— The Districts
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I'm walking through a country in a silent war There's bullets in my gun heavy and loaded I can't open fire now There's enemies around me yet my gun remains concealed Instead I'll cover my ears, pull at the hairs on my nape, I'll scream when I enter where I shall lay my head, and I'll keep remembering to conceal my gun Like the waves come and go, I'll watch my days do the same I'll wait for the day someone comes and opens fire When that day comes—I will sharpen my nails, and clean the holster to my weapon, I will coat my hands in sin and blood as I bring judgement day back to you I am walking on a battlefield of stones and fire Lord, bless Panem, because my gun is no longer concealed
— Jenesis Hammaz
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