I Sit Back On My Bed Cross-legged

"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."

Lay Down Your Head, And Close Your Sleepy Eyes, And When Again They Open, The Sun Will Rise.

Trapped For Days, Years, Centuries Maybe. Dead, But Not Allowed To Die. Alive, But As Good As Dead. So Alone That Anyone, Anything No Matter How Loathsome Would Be Welcome.

They Hadn’t Counted On The Highly Controlled Jabberjay Having The Brains To Adapt To The Wild, To Pass On Its Genetic Code, To Thrive In A New Form. They Hadn’t Anticipated Its Will To Live.

I Pound On The Glass, Screaming My Head Off. Everyone Ignores Me Except For Some Capitol Attendant Who Appears Behind Me And Offers Me A Beverage.