There are much worse games to play.

I merely feel emptyness. A hollow of dead brush where flowers use to bloom.

I think we put our children at an enormous disadvantage by not educating them in war, by not letting them understand about it at an early age.

Ladies and gentlemen....." His voice is quiet, but mine rings through the room. "Let the Seventy-sixth Hunger Games begin!

Yes, it's your fault I'm alive.

So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent...and right when your song ended, I knew - just like your mother - I was a goner.

I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking.