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Her hair was curled up

bobbing to the sway of the jazz music

she was dancing to.

Her skirt was so short

many people might have thought

unrespectable.

She danced and pained

and wrote

and had so many obsessions

that you might not have realised

that she was only trying to be

a new independent character,

different to the women in America.

Zelda Fitzgerald


By Monica

View more poems from Hornsby Girls High School, 2013