Because When He Sings...even The Birds Stop

The Morphlings From District 6 Are In The Camouflage Station, Painting Each Other's Faces With Bright Pink Swirls.

Let Them Go, I Tell Myself. Say Good-bye And Forget Them. I Do My Best, Thinking Of Them One By One, Releasing Them Like Birds From The Protective Cages Inside Me, Locking The Doors Against Their Return.

They're A Little Strange, But I'm Pretty Sure Neither Of Them Is Going To Try To Make Me Uncomfortable By Stripping Naked.

What Will Break Me Into A Million Pieces So That I Am Beyond Repair, Beyond Usefulness?

Instead, I Watch Myself Get Shot On Television.