No. Now, Shut Up And Eat Your

Why Am I Hopping Around Like Some Trained Dog Trying To Please People I Hate?

We Star-crossed Lovers Of District 12, Who Suffered So Much And Enjoyed So Little The Rewards Of Our Victory, Do Not Seek Our Fans' Favor, Grace Them With Our Smiles, Or Catch Their Kisses. We Are Unforgiving. And I Love It. Getting To Be Myself At Last.

And There I Am, Blushing And Confused, Made Beautiful By Cinna’s Hands, Desirable By Peeta’s Confession, Tragic By Circumstance, And By All Accounts, Unforgettable.

So We Both Strip Off Our Boots And Socks And, While There’s Some Improvement, I Could Swear He’s Making An Effort To Snap Every Branch We Encounter

You Can’t Miss Your Schedule. Every Morning, You’re Supposed To Stick Your Right Arm In This Contraption In The Wall. It Tattoos The Smooth Inside Of Your Forearm With Your Schedule For The Day In A Sickly Purple Ink. 7:00—breakfast. 7:30—kitchen Duties. 8:30—education Center, Room 17. And So On. The Ink Is Indelible Until 22:00—bathing