The children of the successful first generation Wall Street executives are the brilliant, doomed hostages of their father's hard work and achievement. Some will build on the shoulders of their father's empires and claim them as their own, living a #life meant exclusively to impress. In their luxury and #lifestyle meant to be envied, they are a poor copy of what once was a beautiful original. There are the cowards, chicken shit kids who's mothers who let them feed from the cow until there is nothing left - certainly not pride. Their fathers are ashamed to the point where he extricates himself from the incestuous monster. The last of us battle to prove ourselves for one moment; just to make our father's speak with pride. We occupy a war torn existence that we've not chosen and we fight until there is nothing left to give. Long after we've given all that we have, and our daydreams have become memories - we are left with a false pride and eternally stuck in the cliche of "the road not taken".