*At the harvest of lives,

We volunteer,

Offering our souls,

To glorify our district.

We are not children,

We are warriors,

Lethal and callous,

Our innocence was robbed,

To glorify our district.

Sheltered by the night,

We hunt in a pack,

Ensuring that innocence departs this world,

To glorify our district.

We crave killing,

It is the only thing we know,

The only thing we are meant to do,

Killing and glorifying our district.

We never reveal fear,

We never spill a tear,

We must be strong,

To glorify our district.

We break our fragile alliance,

We stain our hands with blood,

We shatter our own souls,

To glorify our district.

I hope you liked the poem I wrote about the Careers, reviews would be lovely. :)

Remember to also check out my other stories, "Flames and sobriquets" and "If we burn, you burn with us."

*The harvest of lives is the Reaping.