I had to write this to get it out of my system. Flame away, this story is about fire after all.
Spoilers for Mockingjay.
I'm not the girl on fire, not really.
I said I wasn't afraid of fire but
That was before...
The fire that was on my dress
that wasn't going to hurt
me or anyone else.
But real fire hurts.
It tore away my little duck.
Before I could save her.
Fire turned me into
the Mockingjay
but also fire turn
the Mockingjay
into a reck.
Because I lived
and she didn't.
I saved her
from the games.
But she died anyway.
Maybe some people
just can't grow up.
Maybe some
will never get that chance.
I did
but she didn't.
It should have been me there.
Not her,
never her.
No I'm not the girl on fire.
Because the real girl on fire.
Burnt.