Hey! This is a poem about the forgotten tributes from the first book. Basically the irst dead tributes . Enjoy!
We get thrown into the arena, ready to fight. Seeing all those supplies tempts us to run, to take our chances. Bad mistake. First day, we get sliced and pierced, not even a chance to live. All that prep for nothing. Why so stupid, why? And never see our families. Never again. Then we're forgotten, we first dead tributes. No one thinks about us again, except maybe to think, "what weaklings!" But we are not. We stand for justice from our graves, our souls living on forever, stronger than theirs will ever be. Because if there's an advantage to being taken first, you never have to kill, and that we are grateful for. Never do we have to live with the pain of regret.
What did you think? Please R&R!