Flowers wilt, flowers die. Death is inevitable. Death is as natural as part of life as living. But I am no gardener or florist or botanist, so my flowers die prematurely.

It's not any fair, no matter how much I nourished my garden, I regardless watched the petals fall off one by one.

As with Rue, relying on me so much, and I gave her as much water and food, while she provided the mocking jays her nectar- a four note whistle. It was nature's cycle, the gift that keeps giving.

I refuse to see any beauty in it. It is all a set up. As humans we are consumers, but it is the weak that go first. The weak are producers. As our life courses through and through, we fall dangerously lower on the food chain. As for Rue and Prim, they were always the producers. We keep ourselves alive for years and years so we can die later on in life.

Not even all that I had to give could save her from being severed- plucked from the very ground, her foundation- by consuming side of the food chain, nature's predator. We all have to stay alive, and as implied afore, she was a mere producer. In the games, like life, we all had to stay alive.

Then Prim, my little Primrose, named for the first bud of spring. A living symbol of life and youth and spring in herself. My first rose, my first plant, responsibility, which I failed.

I saved her from the horror of the Hunger Games, the Quarter Quell. It should've been me to die.

For years, I provided for her and she provided for me in return.

But I wasn't there to shield her from man-made chemicals and radiation. My rose, fresh faced and delicate, smothered.

Prim delivered healing and well- being to District 12's citizens, mirroring the medicinal uses derived from the roots of her moniker.

Each of my flowers gave what they could. Healing, song, and beauty.

Both were a part of nature's scheme.

Flowers typically live short lives. Mine lived for twelve years. They were still children.

I'm not one to believe that we all have a purpose in life, but I believe that Primrose and Rue possessed a reason for being, and it was filled to the brim in their clipped lives.

Nature has a way to give and get.

I did all I could to protect my garden; full of Primroses and Rues.

Nothing I did could keep my buds from wilting.