The Flapper

For the longest time I've been obsessed with the 1920's and flappers. There's something about them I feel I can relate to.

I don't know much about poetry, so I don't know if this would be considered a poem or not, but it's just some dumb thing I wrote. It's really horrible, so if you don't want your braincells to die, don't read it.

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The Flapper
By Kelly Ann Scheffer

I dance and hike my dress up and party like no lady should.
My face glows with happiness as I chug down the last of my bootleg booze.
The men stop to watch me as I let it all out,
Lust consumes them.
I pretend not to notice them and continue dancing to that taboo rhythm.
To anyone with an untrained eye, I’m happy and care free.
A typical modern woman.
But those who watch me long enough know.
They know to look into my eyes and see what really goes on.
They see in my eyes the anguish and despair that I try to drown out with music and booze.
They see that I’m acting out.
They see the true flappers for what we really are.