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Bloodbath

I get a tingly sensation from my head to my toes.

"Not long," I whisper, "not long to go."

Around the flatscreen the crowd is in throes,

The excitement's at apex, but yet it still grows.

…

The tributes go up, on platforms they stand,

Knowing as we do the situation in hand.

They must feel honoured, must feel so grand,

Knowing that blood will flow over the land.

…

The tributes run for the Cornucopia near,

Through the shouts and the screams, the TV's hard to hear.

One tribute falls down, overcome by fear,

Well that was a letdown, a tribute so drear.

…

Soon more of the tributes are coming to blows,

I watch as some spasm in final death throes.

Others retreat, quick on their toes,

Dodging the arrows fired from bows.

…

Oh such excitement, oh what a scene,

The Cornucopia bloodbath a great annual dream.

The sounds of battle, of tributes' screams.

I press through the crowd to get a look at the screen.

…

Oh what excitement, oh what a show,

Praises to the Games and President Snow!

Watching projectiles fly, and blood starting to flow,

And I only hope the excitement will grow.