Chapter Text
My name's called out in the town square
Every head turned wide-eyed to stare
Putting on my best poker face
Counting every measured pace
I'm now a card in a game to play
As I walk by, in whispers I hear them say:
"Those Callow boys, rolling the devil's dice
The masters of every conceivable vice
Betting on our dead children! How sick and twisted
One less Booker Boy, I know I won't miss him."
The others look at me with cautious eyes
"I don't trust him, Booker Boys lie"
But I can see their odds of grisly death
The numbers counting their every breath.
Wildcards, bluffs, aces up our sleeve
Who goes into the arena and never leaves.
How much blood to shed to get sponsors and admirers
How much money they're worth when the cannon fires.
The others may hate me, but they can't deny
Tributes come and go, but odds never lie.
My pa never saw much worth in me
The cracked branch of the family tree
He put my odds at forty to one
Because why would he bet on a worthless son?
Fists and accusations flew of jinxing my chances
But they won't stop betting, no matter the circumstances
My pa would sooner hang from a rope
Than lose his gamble, however fleeting his hope.
All this talk of 'painting posters' in Capitol defiance
Like this odds-twisting Newcomer alliance,
But I know how I want my poster painted,
By noble sacrifice, dying untainted.
The longer I live, betters walk home with pockets bursting
To die saving someone would start their cursing
We have two aces, a wildcard, and me
Dying a protector for all to see
Going against the very purpose of these games
The gamblers lose every penny bet on my name
I just hope that when the fatal blow lands,
Betters walk home with empty hands.