A tattoo upon my back

Of a bird zipping through the air.

Above the clouds and the bustle below,

Whizzing by without a care.

A rustic watch upon my wrist

That tells the time no more.

With cracked glass and hands that sit,

Paused at half past four.

A small, brown hat upon my head

With tears and holes all through its rim.

A bronze ribbon across its crown, 

Dented, scratched, and dim.

A cigarette upon my lips

Burning brighter than the sun.

Smoke spinning and twirling high,

Never resting until I’m done. 

Bio - Hunter Rogers-Millson 

My name is Hunter Rogers-Millson, and I am a second-year Professional Writing student who enjoys writing poetry and fantasy stories. My goal is to one day write and publish my own comic book.