A/N: Came into my head last night at around 2a.m. I'm beginning to think I have insomnia... but maybe the plot bunnies are responsible.
Will most likely end up being a series of random THG poems.
It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!
These words, by many longed to say,
To feel their fears brushed fast away.
It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!
.
It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!
Not so, for in the streets they lay,
Forgotten in a silent way.
It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!
.
It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!
Called those who, on their pallets, lay,
Breathing sickness and decay.
It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!
.
It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!
Their voices stilled, gone far away,
Her arrows flew, not held at bay.
It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!
.
It's her, it's her, the Mockingjay!
The killers heard the rebels say,
As, on that grim and fateful day,
She became the Mockingjay.