I once found myself at a fork in the road,

So I picked it up, took it home & put it in the cutlery draw.

I also thanked that unknown road worker in my mind that had dropped it.

That night I started using it on some mash potato, & I got to thinking.

Your soul wants you to be authentic, but the world wants you to be a cheap knock-off.

This is your fork in the road of life, so long as your daddies not rich.

If your daddies rich, the road is a straight line & you will find no forks, only silver spoons.

This story is for those whose daddies were poor or were poor but called themselves middle class.

In this car You can Choose admirable grinding Poverty, or nagging empty comfortability.

Of course, in one of those cases you won’t need to remove all your mirrors – your be able to look at the reflection & not wince.

The choice is yours, but you can’t ever go back – will you throw the mirrors out or mount them on the walls? That is the question.

Once you make your choice – mirrors or no mirrors, you can’t go back. Don’t kid yourself that you can.

Once you ban the mirrors you will soon smash them into a million shards of glass, sweep them up, bin them & never admit they existed.

This is the fork in the road we all face, so long as our daddies were poor, or thought they weren’t.