What Is The Worst Pain? To Me,

It's Not Easy To Find A Topic. Talking Of Home Is Painful. Talking Of The Present Unbearable.

I Don't Know How To Make People Like Me. Cinna, How Do You Make People Like You?

But It's Not Safe And I Can Feel Him Slipping Away, So I Just Get Out One More Sentence. "stay With Me." As The Tendrils Of Sleep Syrup Pull Me Down, I Hear Him Whisper A Word Back But I Don't Catch It.

The Pain Over My Heart Returns, And From It I Imagine Tiny Fissures Spreading Out Into My Body. Through My Torso, Down My Arms And Legs, Over My Face, Leaving It Crisscrossed With Cracks. One Good Jolt...and I Could Shatter Into Strange Razor-sharp Shards.

"if I Could Grow Wings, I Could Fly. Only People Can't Grow Wings," He Say's. "real Or Not Real?" "real," I Say. "but People Don't Need Wings To Survive." "mockingjays Do."