Mockingjay

Done.

Six hours of war and bloodshed. I am so emotionally drained and rattled by the distinct parallels I can draw from this fictional novel to reality that I had to lie down for a couple of hours to collect my bearings.

And though I am comforted by the fact that no wolf or reptilian mutt will rip me to shreds or gorge me alive in my immediate future, the smile that lights my face will never quite reach my ears.

"We're fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a gift for self-destruction."