Poetry

Peeta Mellark is my name
I don't need fame
Nor a title to claim 
Not until the Hunger Games

I am known as the son of the baker
Near the District 12 square
I can carry heavy bags of flour
But I don't think this can bring me far

I was chosen on the public Reaping
To become a tribute like Katniss Everdeen
Who volunteered, also just sixteen
She also study on the school I am in

Aside from being tribute partner
I also know her a little deeper
We were five but I still remember
When I saw her in school with her mother

She has a good voice, I admit
And the mockingjays sing with it
She's good in hunting, everyone knows it
Because we buy her games so we can eat meat

At the parade, we wore special attire
I was then known as the boy on fire
And in the interview, I admitted my love for her
She hates it; she doesn't think it's fair

I got eight in front of the Gamemakers
She got eleven, what she did, I wonder
But I think it doesn't matter
Because everyone knows she's better