DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does. I do, however own this poem.
Tessarae, the children sign up.
Reaping Day, the children line up.
The name is taken from the ball
Their family's faces fall.
The goodbyes are tearful, every one.
Hugs and kisses, there are tons.
To they Capitol, the tributes are brought.
The Capitol so careless, killing with no second thought.
The prep team makes them beautiful in vain.
For the weaklings who are just impossible to train.
It isn't fair, not in the least.
They cry as they have their last feast.
The next morning, the excitement begins.
The race to find out who wins.
To the Cornucupia, they run.
The Capitol watches, just for fun.
The tributes try to take their share.
Some die, but why should the Capitol care?
The survivors run away with their supplies.
And feeling lucky to have survived.
The days drag on, more Tributes fall.
Their Districts watch it with apall.
New horrors arrive with each sunrise.
The tributes find the awful surprise.
Deadly poison, hurricane.
Despairing at the endless rain.
No deaths for days, this calls for a feast.
There will be plenty of bloodspill, at least.
Two tributes left, the bettings are made.
When one dies, it will be so sad.
The victor feels no happiness at winning.
Little do they know it is just the beginning.
Each year, their fears are faced once more.
For another Hunger Games is in store.
This time they must mentor one girl or boy.
And be again the Capitol's toy.
And don't mention the nightmare, every time you sleep.
The awful memories you must keep.
Every year, for the rest of your life,
You're reminded how you killed others, to stay alive.
You must watch as your tribute dies.
Unless, they possibly will survive.
Then, they too, question their victory.
Are they a champion, or is it another story?
The price of winning, is it really all that great,
To live a life, full of fear and hate?
You must ponder that question, until you rest at last
To have a new beginning, to get rid of your past.
You start a new life, in the land of the dead,
For now your life is now your death.
Every day you try to forget.
Every horror that you've met.
The victor. There is one.
The dead. There are many.
The power. Lies in the Capitol.
The hope. Carries on feebly.
The fate. Is unknown.