A Murder At 11 Years

Smile so sweet, body so frail

Tip-toed feet, waiting for the gale

Two hands extended ever so slight

As if on cue ready to take flight

In the enclosed arena are 24 children

Some hunt in packs and some stay hidden

Murder 23 as only last one alive can thrive

Rue lays motionless while I strive to stay alive

Her murder at 11, oh just so young

Her brutal ruthless death left unsung

Even with my impotence causing me despair

I burn to do something right then and there

My arrow in his neck, her murderer lays

The twisted cruelty settles in, as I gaze

I can’t stay mad at him for very long

For I realize he was forced, like us all

Rue’s dreadlocks suddenly now on my lap

My fingers fumble around the menacing trap

Spearhead buried deep into her stomach

I stare helplessly at her breathing struggle

 “Sing”, a word her colorless lips form

Quite noticeably it’s the first time I perform

Lips quivering and my body shivering

Tears rolling down my eyes I sing

With a small huff, like that of satisfaction

Her body goes rigid, far from human interaction

The eerie silence like that before a coming storm

She might just be asleep in her petite form