The Red Shoes

I wanted the red shoes
Like all the girls had
Just a plain pump
It was just the fad

But you knew better . . .

For Christmas that year
Under the tree
Were the red shoes that you
Wanted to give me

An open toed pump
With a big, red bow
When I saw them I didn’t
Know how to show

I was so wounded . . .

I wanted to fit in
Be like the rest
But you told me that these
Shoes would be best

You told me that I
Should never forget
That people like me
Should take what I get

I didn’t understand . . .

You explained to me
That I’m not the same
As the other girls
Like I wanted to claim

I was inferior somehow
Just not as good
Deep down I was flawed
I now understood

It wasn’t really about shoes . . .