He asked "What about me?"

What about you?

Yeah what about you I say!

You are the cold ruthless hand of death clutching all you desire with no consequences or fight against it.

Alas you shall always win.

You're born of the winners.

And I?

I the losers.

Breed intellagent yes, but not fortunate enough to have the gift of luck or talent.

Luck was handed nicely in your favor, for how can such a bafoon acquire such great needs and still recieve?

I ask for less and nearly die trying to get inches closer to my desire,

Don't you scoff at me I'm no liar!

Your worthless words are a waste of oxygen that could be used to sustain a much more deserving life.

You're a pig for joy,

Joy you can't even comprehend