A Poem for Trump
Say hi to trump
Papí of the paparazzi
Prepared with a pout
Perfection at its peak
Partying past PM
A postlude of pansy
If My Internet Friends Were In Hunger Games
Alternate Ending: It was a warm, sunny day. Elizabeth was laying in her makeshift hammock, relaxing her isolation away. She had gotten rid of Bob-Bob long ago, with her exquisite sword skills. Rosie knew she had to win, for the sake of her district. She was wandering around the West zone of the Amazon, her dagger unused and sheathed, hanging by her waist. She was mostly trying to survive, keeping out of the way of the other tributes. She knew that Elizabeth and Olyvia had battled last night, when she found the latter barely alive by the river. Olyvia was good during the training, but she was still average. It was a surprise that she had lasted this long. Now, there was her, Elizabeth and Darya. Making her way through the ivy, she tried to be as quiet as possible. If she wanted to win, stealth was key. Elizabeth was still deep in her thoughts. She knew, when the others tributes came in search of her, she’d surprise them and defeat them to victory. Pretending to sleep was one ...
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