Buttercup

I lean against the pine tree with my axe set beside me, and my pad and pencil in hand.
"Would you hurry up with that, Dev?" my father Aaron exclaims.
"Let me just finish this stanza, and then I'll get choppin'," I shoot right back.
"And be quick about it!", my father exclaims yet again, unloading all of his body strength into his axe, hammering away at the pine. I, Devin Qurstil, being a 15 year old, from District 7, write poetry as a hobby and a sport. I have made several pieces, about differating themes. I am now qualified to start out at being a lumberjack, as you start out after your fifteenth...

Used to be your, tribute.
Used to live for you,
thought that I'd be safe forever.

Now the quarter quells here,
Districts gone to hell here,
And you bring me back for another?

Now you're talking crazy,
Saying the games made me,
Like I was your capital smile
Let's see how these games go
Right hand on my big bow,

Imma do it Mocking Jay Style(x2)

Back in district 12 , when it was reaping time. They called my sister prim, they pulled her out of line.

Momma always said she should never go away,
prim was way too young for these hunger games.

You bet that I believed her, every word she said. I volunteered for prim,...