We won the rebellion,

finally free.

So why do I see their faces,

haunting me?

The way they stare,

accusingly.

President Snow's face,

so amusingly.

My little sister Prim's

strong, yet so young.

Finnicks piercing stare

always has stung.

The way Boggs looked,

when his life came to an end.

Or my stylist Cinna,

who I once could call a friend.

I can't forget Porta,

even though I didn't know her well.

Or all the other Tributes,

who died in that strange hell.

You might as well count my mom,

who I'll never see again.

Why don't we include Gale,

who isn't even my friend.

How about all the others,

the ones who also died.

They are no longer here,

all because I lied.

They wont ever have a chance,

the ones who lie within

It all comes to show,

they weren't the ones to win.