When I wake up,

The other side of my bed is cold,

My stomach won't even rumble,

The craving never gets old,

The cottage grieves in sorrow

Corrupted by tainted mould.

I always restrain the temptation to run,

You’ll never catch me begging for gold,

Solitary seeps through the bed frame,

My body only craves somebody to hold.

Book: The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins.