It's Strange To Be So Physically Close

Yes, Frosting. The Final Defense Of The Dying.

To The Everlasting Credit Of The People Of District 12, Not One Person Claps. Not Even The Ones Holding Betting Slips, The Ones Who Are Usually Beyond Caring. Possibly Because They Know Me From The Hob, Or Knew My Father, Or Have Encountered Prim, Who No One Could Help Loving. So Instead Of Acknowledging Applause, I Stand There Unmoving While They Take Part In The Boldest Form Of Dissent They Can Manage. Silence. Which Says We Do Not Agree. We Do Not Condone. All Of This Is Wrong.

Deep In The Meadow, Hidden Far Away A Cloak Of Leaves, A Moonbeam Ray Forget Your Woes And Let Your Troubles Lay

If It's True, Why Do They Leave Us To Live Like This? With The Hunger And The Killings And The Games?" And Suddenly I Hate This Imaginary Underground City Of District 13 And Those Who Sit By, Watching Us Die. They're No Better Than The Capitol.

This Was The Door To Both Sustenance And Sanity. And We Were Each Other's Key.