Charred Bits Of Black Silk Swirl Into The Air, And Pearls Clatter To The Stage… I’m In A Dress Of The Exact Design Of My Wedding Dress, Only It’s The Color Of Coal And Made Of Tiny Feathers. Wonderingly, I Lift My Long, Flowing Sleeves Into The Air, And That’s When I See Myself On The Television Screen. Clothed In Black Except For The White Patches On My Sleeves. Or Should I Say My Wings. Because Cinna Had Turned Me Into A Mockingjay.
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Charred Bits Of Black Silk Swirl Into
Suzanne Collins
Charred Bits Of Black Silk Swirl Into The Air, And Pearls Clatter To The Stage… I’m In A Dress Of The Exact Design Of My Wedding Dress, Only It’s The Color Of Coal And Made Of Tiny Feathers. Wonderingly, I Lift My Long, Flowing Sleeves Into The Air, And That’s When I See Myself On The Television Screen. Clothed In Black Except For The White Patches On My Sleeves. Or Should I Say My Wings. Because Cinna Had Turned Me Into A Mockingjay.
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