A pair of shiny new shoes arrive in the mail as a graduation gift. 
Two sizes too big, they swing around my ankles, it's not a perfect fit. 
But it's fine, give it time, you'll grow into them, they said. I promise you'll feel a lot better when  
you stop skipping down the driveway,  
abandon your childish reveries, 
hurry up and learn some responsibility,  
before you trip on the sidewalk and scrape up your knees, you've always been so quick to bleed, 
with your dirty bandaids and scratched up palms, picked at scabs turned into scars... 
How long do you think you could hide what you are?