Drowned
Post Mockingjay Poem
Annie's POV
The final eight stand tensely, poised to fight.
A blur of metal soars by my face,
Shatters the silence.
Chaos is unleashed.
Combat breaks out, swords are flung around recklessly.
One tribute falls.
A cannon's solemn voice echoes throughout this arena,
this cage,
this prison,
where i am drowning
in this violence and terror.
Moments later, i am prone in a ditch
Fists clenching my ragged hair,
brain denying what I have just
witnessed.
My hands find my ears as his
screams, his
agony filled screams
replay
over and
over and
over
in my head.
I am drowning of grief in this insanity,
this insane game of the Gamemakers
who mercilessly ripped my
district partner, my best friend,
away from the games, from me, from life itself.
He is dead.
I am drowning. And I'm perfectly dry.
Years later, I still drown in the Capitol's cruelty.
My fellow tribute's shrieks of pain,
as the blade severed him from his life,
threaten to sink my ship,
this symbolic ocean
much more dangerous than the flood only I survived.
Survived.
I survived, but only just.
They promised me I'd never
face drowning again.
Lies.
Every day is a battle against the pull of sorrow,
and every day I drown in my tears.