In the forest of my mind I am the thing hunted.
In the forest of my mind I am a rabbit helpless and in my flight.
I am without fangs to defend myself, although, my legs are strong.
So I run.
I run towards a valley I might never reach.
I run because of instinct.
I run for the thing that follows me, it is fierce.
I am fourteen and still believe in shadows,
I see them more than I like.
I see their claws wrap around people.
I pass in the street.
I am fourteen and I am a rabbit on the run.
I am fourteen,
I wish I knew how to hit this illness straight on.
Right now I don’t know how to deal.
Maybe in twenty years,
I will be able to stop running,
And turn to face whatever follows me head on,
But until then,
Marchell Dyon is from Chicago IL. , she has taken various poetry workshops; she is currently working on her first chapbook. Her work has appeared in Ouroboros Review, West Ward Quarterly, Lily Review, Corner Club Press, Toasted Cheese Journal, and Torrid Literature Vol. III.